


Uninvited but not Unwelcome

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Changes to Full Consent, Consensual Non-Consent, Couch Sex, Dubious Consent, Enemies With Benefits, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Marking, Mention of past rape (not explicit), Sexual Dysfunction, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26918569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: Bane's work is interrupted when Barsad brings him an uninvited guest: John Blake, a Gotham City policeman hellbent on disrupting Bane's plans for the city. John's first self-set mission is to rescue another kidnapped cop by offering himself to be Bane's prisoner instead. What John wasn't bargaining for was Bane deciding that he wanted something far more physical in nature than information in return from the alluring Gotham cop.
Relationships: Bane (DCU)/John Blake
Comments: 172
Kudos: 272





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Mostly consistent with TDKR movie timeline with a few adjustments.

“Bane, you have an uninvited guest.”

Bane’s hands paused in their work at the sound of Barsad’s voice. He set down the contraption that had been occupying his attention and stood from the workbench. Although the sewers were without doors, his corner of the tunnels was relatively secluded behind the waterfall. In the entrance to his personal space, Bane found his second-in-command, accompanied by an unfamiliar man.

He looked young, late twenties at most, with short dark hair and vibrant, sharp eyes. His skin was pale and smooth except for a cut across his cheek where he must have been punched upon his discovery. The cut had bled freely onto the starched collar of the man’s police uniform. The man’s hands were bound behind his back, possibly with his own police cuffs.

Barsad had the intruder on his knees, gun aimed at his temple. Cops were not completely unexpected down here in the sewers, but the way the man held Bane’s gaze without flinching was rather unique. “We found him sneaking around down here on his own,” Barsad continued. “He asked to speak with you before we shot him.”

Bane stood tall, looking down at the young Gotham cop. “What is your name?”

“John,” the man answered. Bane raised an expectant eyebrow. “Blake,” he finished after another moment’s hesitation.

“John Blake,” Bane tested the weight of the name in his mouth. “You do not _look_ foolish, and yet here you are. You have achieved your audience so tell me what you want.”

“Yesterday your men kidnapped an officer named Amelia Bryant,” John stated, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. “I want her released.”

Bane’s eyes flickered to Barsad, who gave the slightest nod in confirmation. Bane stayed aware of pretty much every cog in play, but he did trust some tasks specifically to Barsad. He knew they had been trying to nab officers to gain intel on the Gotham City Police Department, but he hadn’t known the names of their precise targets. They were supposed to target low-ranking cops who would not bring feverish pursuit and yet here this man was at his feet.

“You want her released,” Bane repeated slowly, mulling this over. “Protecting your sweetheart, I presume?”

“My motivations are my own,” John retorted.

Did John know that Bane’s favourite activity was studying someone’s motivations and then prying them apart thread by thread? Did he know how frustratingly interesting he was being right now?

“Then what are you offering me in return?” Bane asked.

“Myself,” John answered in a rush. Bane stared down at him, unblinking. “I am higher ranking and have more information than her,” John added, trying to sell himself into imprisonment for the sake of another.

“You would be my prisoner,” Bane told him, skimming his thumb with pressure over the clotting cut on John’s cheek. The drying blood cracked and spilled anew. John flinched but resisted his own instinct to pull away. “I would do whatever I wanted and keep you as long as I wished.”

He saw John’s throat constrict as he swallowed hard before answering. “I understand.”

Bane removed his hand but did not bother wiping John’s blood from the pad of his thumb. “Very well, John Blake. You have a deal.”

“How do I know you’ll let her go?” John demanded.

“I am a man of my word,” Bane said. “But I have the time to spare and will prove it. Take us to her,” he said this last part to Barsad, who nodded again.

Bane hooked a hand under John’s armpit, hoisting him to his feet without effort. He held John aloft for a few moments, waiting for John’s cramped knees to bear his weight, and then let go. Barsad kept his gun close in hand in front of them but Bane walked at John’s side empty-handed, knowing his body was enough of a threat and weapon to deter the cop from doing anything stupid.

They walked through the darkened maze of tunnels to where they kept their prisoners. John stumbled more than once but didn’t fall, and remained silent for the entire trek. Soon they reached their destination and Barsad unlocked the door with a key from around his neck. Inside there was a row of makeshift cells, though only one was occupied. She looked older than John and tired, blond hair matted down and a few bruises visible on her cheeks and forearms.

The room was kept dark but Barsad entered and turned on an electric lantern. Amelia shrunk back when she first spotted Bane in the doorframe, though her eyes widened when she saw John beside him. “John? What are you doing here?” her voice trembled.

“Getting you home, I hope,” John sent Bane a sidelong look filled with distrust.

“John has bargained for your freedom,” Bane told her. “You will be blindfolded and we will take you to an exit and you will be free to go. If you resist at any time the bargain will be voided.”

Amelia’s eyes flickered back and forth between the two of them at the door, and then to Barsad who entered the cell with a blindfold in one hand. “John, don’t risk yourself for me!” her voice rose in pitch.

“Quiet,” Bane spoke over her firmly. “The deal is already made.”

She was smart enough to not fight when Barsad wound the blindfold around her head and led her out of the cage. John flinched away from him but then surrendered when Bane held up a second blindfold to cover John’s eyes. Walking the tunnels in darkness was one thing, but they didn’t need John or Amelia seeing their route to one of the lit exits. Barsad again took the lead back out into the tunnels, firm grip on Amelia’s upper arm and gun pointed at her gut. Bane extinguished the lantern and held John’s upper arm in a similar fashion, half to keep him subdued and half to avoid any stumbles.

The walk was slow with the two blindfolded cops, and silent except for their footfalls. Bane’s curiosity about John remained piqued but he was nothing if not patient. Still, he was glad when they turned a corner and saw the glimmer of afternoon sunlight through the exit where they would release Amelia. There were multiple armed guards just inside the tunnel opening but they stood down when they saw Bane and Barsad.

In the first rays of sunlight, Barsad removed Amelia’s blindfold and stepped back, gun trained on her. Amelia blinked rapidly as she adjusted to the sudden light and squinted back into the darkness at John. “I’m out, John, like they promised,” she called out to him. “I’ll come back for you!”

“You’ll do no such thing!” John snapped. “Go home and stay safe. I’ll be okay.”

“You—” she took a step back into the tunnel but Barsad cocked his gun, making her freeze. “Stay strong,” Amelia said at last. She hesitated for a moment longer and then turned and ran out of sight.

“Are you satisfied?” Bane asked.

“Yes,” John said, though his voice sounded strangled. “I am satisfied.”

The walk back into the tunnels was faster without two pairs of stumbling feet. This time Barsad followed Bane, gun at ease but eyes ever watchful in the near darkness. Bane sent him away when they approached their base of operations in the sewers and removed John’s blindfold as they stepped behind the waterfall. John blinked a few times and looked around. “I was expecting the cell,” he admitted.

“Are you complaining?” Bane wondered.

John shifted his weight. “I’m not sure.”

Bane circled behind John, observing the way John tensed when Bane was out of sight. He palmed the key for the cuffs Barsad had handed to him earlier and unlocked the cuff on John’s right wrist. John had been searched with all of his weapons taken away before he was first brought to Bane and he was no physical threat compared to Bane’s strength. Likely knowing this, John didn’t fight when Bane nudged him towards the railing behind the waterfall and clipped the cuff around the metal.

“You are _my_ prisoner,” Bane emphasized. “So you will remain with me.”

For the first time John’s voice wavered. “What are you going to do with me?”

Bane considered John, and the question, as he wondered the same thing. “You don’t seem like the type to divulge information without torture,” Bane mused aloud. The firm set of John’s jaw and narrowed lips answered. “So I will need to decide what I want from you.”

John said nothing else and Bane had nothing else to say. He turned his back on the cuffed cop and resituated himself at his workbench. Bane set aside his previous project in the top corner of the beaten up desk and pulled materials for his new project from drawers and nearby boxes stacked haphazardly around Bane’s personal space. He clicked on a desk lamp with a fading bulb and settled into his task, letting the time slip by.

Bane didn’t know how long had passed when he stood from the desk and stretched the stiffness out of his joints. When Bane looked over he saw that John had knelt down on the concrete, his arm pulled awkwardly overhead where his wrist was cuffed to the top section of railing. John wasn’t saying or doing anything, his forehead against his knees and his free arm wrapped around himself as he shivered.

Bane left without a word, seeking out the welding tools stored elsewhere in the sewers. He didn’t look back to see if John watched him go, though he could see when returning later that John hadn’t moved an inch. Bane set down a plate with a hunk of bread and a bruised apple, and a plastic cup filled with water in front of John and kicked John’s shoe lightly. “Eat.”

John still didn’t stir, though Bane could tell that he was awake. His shivering had morphed into a full body tremble. On closer inspection, Bane could see that the entire back of John’s clothes had been soaked through from the waterfall’s cold spray. John’s hair was too short to grab so Bane placed the heel of his palm against John’s forehead and pushed his head back. John’s eyes were furious and pained but Bane was unfazed. “Eat, or I will make you eat when I return.”

He left again, to collect the cooled metal he had welded earlier as well as some other items he required. No one but Barsad dared to approach Bane down here and Barsad was elsewhere so Bane was left alone to complete his tasks in silence. When he returned a second time, he saw that only the apple core remained and Bane was pleased even though John had otherwise not moved.

On the opposite side of the room from the waterfall, near Bane’s cot, he dropped the mattress he had been able to find and nudged it against the wall with a boot. The noise interested John enough that he lifted his head to watch. “Is that for me?”

“Yes, as are these.” Bane dropped a spare set of work pants, a hoodie, and a blanket on top of the mattress. “I won’t have my prisoner dying before I am done with you. Do you need the bathroom?”

John nodded but cried out with pain when he tried to stand. Bane could hear John’s harsh breathing as he approached, the cop’s body and legs cramped from hours of the damp air and kneeling on concrete. “I can’t stand,” John panted, eyes clenched closed.

Bane hooked both hands under John’s armpits and lifted him in one swift movement, John’s weight trivial to him. John made another pained noise, sharper this time as his shoulder moved for the first time in hours. Bane held him aloft, watching John’s pale, sweaty face contort with pain. Three times Bane tried to set John on his feet only for the cop to flinch and nearly collapse anew. It took long, strained minutes before Bane could finally let go, though John remained unsteady on his feet. It was like dealing with an injured prey animal; John was shockingly fragile.

Knowing John wouldn’t be able to escape right now even if he tried, Bane undid the cuff attached to the railing and led the way towards the nearest portable toilet they had set up in the sewers. John followed with weak, shuffling steps, his breathing laboured. It was only on their slow walk back towards Bane’s corner of the sewers that John regained a steadier gait, although his shivering had grown worse due to his soaked clothing.

“Change,” Bane ordered when they arrived, pointing at the dry clothes. “You may have your clothes back when they dry.”

John bent down to pick up the clothes and then looked over his shoulder at Bane. “How about a little privacy?”

Bane huffed. “Did you forget that you are a prisoner?”

John scowled and kept his back facing Bane as he changed clothes as quickly as possible. Bane stood and watched, considering each inch of skin that was bared to him. John looked lithe in his uniform but his body was strong and muscular, especially in the thighs and torso. He was attractive; and it wasn’t the first time Bane had the thought since first laying eyes on John earlier in the day. Perhaps Bane could find something he wanted from John after all.

In dry clothes, John’s shivering abated almost immediately. He hung up his wet clothes where Bane pointed and then stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Bane was still looking him over, taking in every detail. From the way he held himself, Bane could tell John had learned at a young age how to hide his fear and show he wouldn’t back down from a fight, even one he knew he would lose.

Bane approached, watching John study him in return. Then he grabbed John’s left wrist, which was still cuffed. Bane pulled his evening project from a pocket of his jacket, sliding a loop of steel cable into the free cuff dangling from John’s wrist before securely closing it. At the other end of the long and thin steel cable was a sturdy metal clip that was quickly latched onto the railing where John had spent his afternoon.

John’s eyes trailed the cable from the railing back to his cuffed wrist. “Am I a pet to you?” he spat out the words.

Bane stood directly in front of him and gripped John’s chin firmly with one hand. “Do you often concern yourself with semantics? All you need to know is that you are mine.”

John tried to pull away from his touch but could not break free. He bared his teeth. “I will not be broken.”

Broken toys were never any fun to play with, but John hadn’t earned any form of reassurance. Instead, Bane goaded him. “I thought of how you could pay for your freedom, but perhaps you will not want to hear it.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me.”

“If you get me off, I will let you go,” Bane said simply.

“Get you...?” John trailed off with momentary confusion before clarity hit. John quickly looked down at Bane’s belt and then away, his cheeks and ears turning red. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“Do I strike you as the joking type?”

This made John blush a darker red. “How am I to believe you’d just let me leave after I…?”

John’s discomfort was amusing to watch. Bane doubted he would have much success in the task if he could not even say the words. “I have already proven to you that I am a man of my word. And I’m sure your girlfriend would understand doing what you must.”

“She’s not—” John began and then cut himself off, hands clenched into fists.

Bane was intrigued but would not be derailed from the current topic. “Regardless, the length of your captivity depends entirely on you.” With this statement lingering in the air, Bane began undressing for sleep. He never fully stripped down in case some emergency happened so he wasn’t exactly giving John a show, but John still shifted his weight and cleared his throat uncomfortably. Once his belt, jacket and body armour were shucked, Bane lay down on his cot.

He closed his eyes and was about to roll over when he heard a quiet, tentative voice. “Wait.” Bane blinked his eyes open and looked over at John, who had walked a few steps closer to the makeshift bed. John fidgeted with the cuff around his left wrist. "I'll do it, right now."

Bane considered him for a long moment without responding, wondering if he should simply make John wait for the enjoyment of watching him squirm. Then Bane moved to sit on the edge of his bed, his legs spread wide enough to accommodate John's body as he knelt on the floor between Bane's knees. John reached for the zipper of Bane’s pants but froze when Bane wrapped a hand around his throat. “If you cause any damage I will kill you.”

John swallowed against Bane’s palm and nodded his understanding. Bane removed his hand and sat back to watch John’s shaky fingers work open his pants. Bane lifted his hips slightly to allow John to tug down his pants and underwear enough to free his flaccid length but otherwise remained an observer only. John knelt between his legs, eyeing Bane’s cock, and took a deep breath like he was about to be submerged in water. Then he reached forward with his uncuffed hand and wrapped it around Bane’s base.

Bane watched John looking away as his hand began to move, a distracted up and down movement along Bane’s heated flesh. There was no noise except for the waterfall’s spray perpetually crashing down on cement two stories below, drowning out even the sounds of Bane and John’s shallow breathing. The moment felt awkward and fragile, a knockoff of something that could have otherwise been precious.

Bane let John work at him. He observed the shape of John’s fingers circling him and the way his flaccid cock stretched and shrunk with the tugging motion. John was still turned aside, eyes locked away from the sight of his current task. John was beautiful, for certain, but his blush had faded and his expression was sour. There was nothing here for Bane to savour and his body agreed.

“Enough.”

Bane brushed John off with a push against his shoulder. If they had been lovers, Bane would have been embarrassed by his body’s lack of reaction. But they were simply strangers, where one had given the other an impossible task. Years of pain and morphine had ravaged Bane’s nerves to the point where he only reacted to physical contact when it was strong or when he was incredibly focused. He had thought John’s physical attractiveness might have assisted the latter but John’s clear lack of interest or enjoyment with the task had counteracted any benefit his looks provided.

At least Bane would have something pretty to look at while John was trapped here.

“Wait, I can…” John protested as he picked himself off the concrete, though he seemed unable or unwilling to finish his promise.

“You can what, chafe me to death?” Bane hiked up his underwear and pants and then lay back down on the cot. “I said enough,” was the last he said before rolling away to face the wall.

Bane pretended to sleep but he was wide awake, ears honed in on John. The cop remained where he had been pushed for a few long minutes, supposedly staring at Bane’s back, before finally moving over to settle on the mattress in the corner. Bane had thought it would be satisfying watching John fumble and fail at his task but it had just left Bane frustrated. He had gone years without any form of sexual touch or release and he operated fine without it. However, there had been hope, however small and buried, that a pretty young man between his legs might have been enough to gain him some pleasure.

It had been a foolish hope though, Bane knew. No pleasure awaited him in his future.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter warning** : Canon-typical violence from Bane directed towards OCs.

Bane rarely slept soundly and he woke up early the next morning. John was curled up on his mattress with his back to the room, shivering under the solitary blanket Bane had left for him. Whether he was sleep or only pretending, Bane didn’t check. Bane had work to do deeper in the tunnels, progressing Talia’s plans for Gotham. He dressed quickly and only paused long enough to drop off two plates of food and a large bottle of water near John’s mattress before leaving, knowing John’s leash should let him walk to the portable toilet if he needed it in Bane’s absence.

He met Barsad by the armoury and together they headed into the darkened tunnels, neither of them requiring a lantern. “What are you going to do with him?” Barsad asked after a few long minutes of walking in silence.

“Keep him, for now,” Bane answered.

“Our scouts have spotted him exploring tunnels before yesterday,” Barsad informed him. “We suspect he’s under orders from the Commissioner while he’s in the hospital recovering.”

Bane logged this information but said nothing in return. Barsad remained silent after that, knowing better than to question Bane’s actions or motivations. Only as they approached one of the many underground construction sites scattered around the city did Bane ask, “Do you need another cop to interrogate?”

“Not right away,” Barsad told him. “We got what we needed from the woman.”

Bane nodded, considering this as well, and then turned his attention to their task at hand. “Let’s work.”

#

It was late evening when Bane returned to his corner of the sewers behind the waterfall. John had changed back into his uniform, now dry, and was leaning against the railing a short distance from the waterfall. Bane could see John’s focus in his calculating gaze as he studied and no doubt memorized the open area of the sewers he could view from this vantage point. Bane could also see the hungry looks some of the men on other platforms in the area sent the young cop, and he shoved John back out of sight behind the waterfall.

For reasons Bane didn’t know and maybe never would, it was clear that John had a very low view of his self worth. Trading his freedom and quite possibly his life for another cop; putting himself on display in front of those who might do him harm just to gain intelligence for his superior officer. “You do not care much for your own safety,” Bane surmised aloud as he took off his body armour and belt.

“I do what I must,” John retorted. He glanced down at Bane’s crotch when he said those words, and then looked away with a clenched jaw.

“They would hurt you,” Bane pointed out, remembering the way those men slinked away only when Bane was next to John.

“As if you care,” John scoffed. “Besides, after tonight it shouldn’t matter.”

Bane cared, but not in the way John was implying. Bane had very little to call his own during his miserable life, leaving him incredibly possessive now that he had the strength and authority to punish those who showed him disrespect. The pretty cop was his to toy with; John wasn’t to be soiled by the hands and impatience of those lacking Bane’s finesse.

As Bane thought this, John stepped into his personal space and sunk to his knees. John’s fingers were more sure this time as they popped the button of Bane’s pants and dragged the fabric down to his thighs. Bane felt a rush of heat he had not the night before, enjoying John’s movements which were confident with intent. It was like John had thought about this all day; wanted it. But as soon as John’s hand started stroking him, John turned his face away as if he could disconnect from what was happening.

Disgusted, Bane barely tolerated a few minutes of John’s touch before he pushed him away. John caught himself this time and levelled Bane with a glare. “Are you intentionally trying to keep me from succeeding?”

“Your failure is not mine.” Bane buttoned himself up and walked past John to sit down at his workbench.

John stood up, dusted off his knees, and followed. “Are you even capable of…?”

“Of?” Bane prompted when John trailed off again.

“Of even…” John ran his fingers through his short hair anxiously. “Getting hard.”

“Technically.” Bane busied himself by pulling out his contraption from a day before; a remote trigger for lights on a timer.

“Technically,” John echoed with disdain. He kicked the closest leg of Bane’s desk and then stormed away, though Bane still caught his muttered words. “I’m on a fool’s mission.”

Bane worked at his desk, doing his best to ignore John’s moody presence in his space. As the evening grew late, Bane left to eat and brought food back but John curled up on his mattress without touching his plate. Bane watched John’s back, noticing when he started to shiver again. Bane had never found the damp chill of the sewers particularly uncomfortable but his reaction to temperature was even more muted than his sensitivity to touch. Eventually Bane decided that John’s discomfort wouldn’t literally kill him, and lay down in his own bed without another word spoken.

#

The next afternoon when Bane returned from his tasks aboveground, John was waiting for him. “Is this our routine now?” Bane wondered as he shrugged off his coat, more dread than intrigue plaguing him now. It was amusing watching John struggle against a nearly impossible task, but less enjoyable than Bane had expected when his own body became involved.

John shook his head. “I’m not trying again until you answer some questions.”

“Questions,” Bane repeated. “You presume to ask your captor questions and expect answers.”

“I’ve been thinking today while you were gone,” John said as Bane slowly removed his armour and sat on the edge of his cot. John remained standing but turned to face Bane as if he was giving a lecture. “You told me that you can _technically_ get hard, but that means it’s probably possible but difficult. And you clearly haven’t enjoyed the last two nights any more than I have.” Bane was equally impressed and discomforted by the way John had been analyzing him with only a few days together but he said nothing to interrupt. “I think a part of you does want me to succeed.”

“And your success will come from psychoanalyzing me,” Bane mocked.

“Sort of, yeah,” John shrugged. “If you tell me what you like then I can try to make it good for you.”

It had been so long that Bane wouldn’t know how to answer John’s query even if he wanted to. “It is not my job to help you earn your freedom,” Bane sidestepped the question entirely.

“I’ll reciprocate,” John offered carefully. “Information for information.”

Now that was an interesting proposal. “What information?”

“Equivalent information,” John said. “If you tell me what you like, physically, I’ll tell you what I like.” John’s cheeks were a pretty pink with his embarrassment but he didn’t let it stop him. “If you tell me about your past I’ll tell you about mine. Tit for tat.”

It was a delicate game. Whoever offered information first had control over the topic, but was at risk of sharing too much if the other refused to reciprocate. Bane would not make any promises but he was curious. “You first.”

John sat down in the chair at the workbench and sighed, a thoughtful expression furrowing his eyebrows. Eventually John seemed to make up his mind on where he wanted to start, what he was willing to divulge. “I don’t enjoy pain but it’s a turn on to be held in place or held down during sex.”

Bane was momentarily distracted by the mental image that came to his mind unbidden, and the twist of heat between his legs. He did his best to keep his face blank, though the mask kept any reaction mostly hidden already. “I don’t know what I like,” Bane replied.

John pursed his lips but was not deterred. “The last time I had sex was a year ago.”

Did those times in the Pit count, when he had reached orgasm but without desire or consent? When it had been wrung from him against his will? John was talking about consensual, if not loving, sex. That was all unknown to Bane. “No information you share will draw an answer where I had a positive experience,” he said at last. Bane was unwilling to indulge a slew of questions when he knew he didn’t have the answer John was looking for.

Bane expected John to look away, but he did not. Bane saw the way John’s jaw clenched reflexively before he spoke. “I understand, at least a little.”

Perhaps John had not had perfect experiences either. Bane made his next statement carefully, aware of the figurative thin ice he traversed. “Yet you like to be held down.”

Now John turned away with a shy chuckle. “Fetish and fear sometimes get mixed up in a fucked up brain.”

For each sliver of information John offered, Bane wanted tenfold more. John had fallen silent and Bane thought hard about what he wanted to know most, and what he was willing to share. “I like imagining holding you down.”

John looked back at him with widening eyes. “I…” John weathered the corner of his lip with his teeth. “I do too.”

They eyed one another uncertainly. This time it was Bane who turned away first. “Enough for tonight,” he said, eager to shut this conversation down. This was why strangers did not talk about these sorts of personal details; it bred intimacy whether you wanted it or not. John didn’t force the conversation but it was a long time before Bane heard him give up and return to his mattress for the night.

#

It was early afternoon, hours before Bane was due back in the sewers. He had left Barsad in charge of the day’s work so that he could return to the sewers, distracted and agitated without cause. Bane’s conversation with John the night before lingered in the back of his mind but it had been easy to ignore when he woke up early enough to slip away while John continued sleeping. Bane told himself he just needed a quick check in and then he could go back out and be productive for the afternoon.

In the tunnels closest to the waterfall, Bane passed a few soldiers who watched his movements warily. They often kept their distance but they seemed more skittish than usual, which made Bane increasingly suspicious and antsy. He picked up his pace as he rounded a corner and stepped onto his platform, not knowing why he was rushing until he heard a familiar voice piercing through the waterfall’s cascade.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!”

Over the years Bane had learned how to contain and harness his endless rage, turning it into a targeted weapon instead of an uncontrolled explosion. That did not help the moment Bane laid eyes on the sight before him, fury narrowing his vision and blocking out everything except for what was directly in front of him.

Two men from the sewers had John on the ground with his back against Bane’s cot. John’s shirt was rucked halfway up his torso and his pants' fly was undone. The cut on John’s cheek had been reopened and joined by newly-forming bruises and a split lip, one man’s knuckles bloody. The other man had grabbed hold of John’s cabled leash and wound it warningly around John’s throat in an attempt to subdue him.

“Ba-ne,” John choked out against the press of steel around his neck.

The two men froze in their animalistic pawing at John, rushing to put distance between themselves and their prey as soon as they spotted Bane looming behind them. “Boss—”

“Kneel.”

They fell to their knees, foreheads against concrete. “Mercy,” one whispered.

Bane walked past them to crouch and slowly unwind the cable from John’s throat. There was a thin bruise darkening pale skin but no long-term or fatal damage. Then Bane pulled a pocketknife from his belt and held it out to John in offering. “Their punishment is yours.”

There was molten hatred in John’s eyes and Bane realized it wasn’t just for his two attackers. John knocked away Bane’s hand. “I’m not like you,” he spat.

Bane stood again, silent as he approached and then passed the two men. From one of his metal crates of supplies he withdrew two long strands of rope, a sturdy weave that would not slip when wet. “Rise,” he ordered. “Accept the fate you choose for yourselves.”

Both men lifted their heads, snivelling and pleading. Their words fell on deaf ears as Bane knotted one length of rope around each neck, his anger still all-consuming. Bane held both pieces of rope in one hand, dragged them forward to the railing and further along the platform, the men tripping in his wake. He was surprised to encounter Barsad who was walking in his direction. Barsad looked at Bane and then the two men in their nooses. “It appears your agitation held merit. I followed to see if you were alright.”

Bane’s nostrils flared when he realized what would’ve happened if he had ignored his gut for five minutes longer. “Punishment must be served.”

Barsad glanced in the direction of Bane’s alcove where John remained. Then he nodded and used the butt of his rifle against the metal railing, five _clangs_ that reverberated through the air. Whether sleeping, working or eating, all men stopped what they were doing and came to the railings, looking up at the spectacle awaiting them.

“Brothers,” Bane called out to them. He had no interest in long speeches. His only goal was to teach the lesson everyone should have already known. “Understand the cost of touching something that belongs to another.” Bane tied one end of rope around the railing; Barsad tied the other. “You may jump, if you wish to shorten you punishment,” he told the two men, loud enough for his voice to carry.

They stared at him with horror and confusion, the nearest man shaking his head in denial. There was no hesitance, no uncertainty in Bane’s movements as he pulled that man closer, burying the three-inch blade of the pocketknife into his gut. Bane didn’t even know his name, nor cared as the man groaned his agony, gripping his abdomen as he collapsed back against the railing. Bane looked him over, measuring the growing puddle of blood beneath him.

“That should take a few hours at least,” Bane assessed clinically, shifting his attention to the second man. “Do you choose the same death?” The second man, the one who had held the cable around John’s neck, edged towards the railing on his own. Bane watched with grim satisfaction as he climbed over the railing, teetering over the edge with a vice grip on the rail. “Let go,” Bane told him. His stature was threat enough but Bane kept the bloodied blade in view. “You have already fallen.”

The man let go and fell out of view, though Bane heard the snap of his vertebrae a story below when the rope caught him. Bane barely glanced at the first man as he kicked his body under the railing and out into open air, smearing fresh blood across the floor. There was no broken neck this time, just a choking gurgle and then silence.

Bane stepped up to the railing. No one made a sound. “John Blake is _mine_ , at all times, in all places,” he proclaimed. “The punishment will be far worse than this for anyone else who dares touch what is mine.”

He turned away, leaving the two bodies to dangle. Barsad was at his side, expression curious but without judgement. “Do you need anything?”

“Antiseptic cream and bandages, but I can get that myself,” Bane said. “Do you trust who you left in charge?”

Barsad nodded. “I’ll spend the afternoon around here making sure things stay settled. Bane,” he called out when Bane started to walk past him. There weren’t many people Bane would wait for, but Barsad was one of them. “Be careful. He’s going to die or leave here in the end.”

“I am not a fool,” Bane replied, though he knew he was acting the fool. It wasn’t about John, not really. Bane just never had anything that was his own and for the brief blip of time he possessed John, he would not tolerate anyone else clamouring after him.

“I just thought you may need a reminder,” Barsad inclined his head and walked away to keep an eye on things in the lower levels of the sewers.

Bane walked in the opposite direction to one of their locked storage rooms where they housed medical supplies in a dry, clean area. He took only what he needed and returned to his alcove behind the waterfall, surprised when he found John where he had been left. Bane set the bandages on the bed and knelt beside John, squeezing a dollop of cream onto one finger.

He reached for John’s cheek but was barred by John extending his arm. “Do _not_ touch me.” John’s voice was venom, seeking a wound to poison. “I know what you just did offers me some level of protection but let me make something incredibly clear: I am a human being. I am _not_ yours, or anyone else’s.” John’s lip was still bleeding but he didn’t seem to notice or care. “I chose to come here. I will gain my freedom and tear down everything you hope to achieve.”

Bane watched the emotions flicker across John’s face. Pain, rage, fear, determination. This was a man who knew what it was like to have his back up against a wall and to fight tooth and nail for another scrap of freedom, another moment alive. Bane was temporarily at a loss for words; nothing he could say would outpace John’s fervour or combat his proclamation. It was the moment he realized that John was more than an interesting toy, and that Bane wanted to keep it that way.

He didn’t sully John’s words with an argument. Bane simply wiped the cream off his finger and onto his pants, left the container of cream and bandages on his bed by John’s shoulder, and left.


	3. Chapter 3

For days, they didn’t talk. It was a relief, in a way, since Bane felt the need to distance himself from the intimacy they had forged during that incredibly personal conversation about sex. However, it was uncomfortable too. Having John’s physical presence nearby and yet off limits was irritating. Why was Bane keeping John here if he couldn’t gain any entertainment, information, or insight from him? All John did was sleep under his blankets – he had stolen Bane’s blanket and Bane hadn’t taken it back – rummage through Bane’s boxes, and work out.

Bane kept himself busy with work, taking part in the most physically laborious tasks available. His mind felt stifled but it helped to stretch and strain his muscles and stamina so that each night he was tired enough to sleep almost instantly. Barsad oversaw the sewers for two days before deciding that everyone had learned the lesson Bane taught them and would not take such a foolish risk again. After that, Barsad worked with Bane or at other sites, the two of them slowly drawing the pieces of Talia’s plan into place.

It had been a week since John’s arrival when Bane entered his corner of the sewers in the evening and found John seated on the edge of his bed, waiting for him. Bane paused, observing John's posture and body language as he removed his belt and body armour. It was late and Bane was tired but he didn’t shoo John away. Regardless, John stood up and stepped aside, holding out a hand to indicate that Bane should sit down in his place. Bane circled John first, confirming he was without weapons before finally sitting down.

Smooth as silk, as if they did this every day, John nudged apart Bane’s thighs with his palms and knelt between them. The waterfall continued its endless thunder, nearly stealing away John’s hushed voice, whispered the way a lover shared a secret. “You’re going to have the best orgasm of your life, Bane. And then I’m going home.”

Bane’s heart rate quickened at John’s words and the conviction behind them. He didn’t fight it when John’s hands skimmed up the inseam of his pants and massaged at Bane’s crotch through the fabric. John was patient this time, seemingly at ease with what he was doing rather than rushing to get it over with. For the first time, Bane didn’t feel just a twinge of arousal but a flood of it, heat pooling in his gut. It drew Bane’s attention inward, ignoring everything except the way John’s hands rubbed against him and slowly started to pull his pants down and out of the way.

John spit in his hand before wrapping it around Bane’s cock, pumping him a few times before swirling the pad of his thumb over Bane’s slit. Instinctively Bane shifted his weight when he felt the spark of pleasure, equally foreign and addictive. It wasn’t just the contact though, the way John took his time and leaned into Bane’s personal space. It was the fact that John was watching him, lips slightly parted as he memorized what movements drew a reaction and repeated them.

To Bane’s shock, he felt the heft of himself in John’s hand as he started to harden. And John had the audacity to smirk up at him for an instant before he leaned forward and dragged the flat of his tongue up the underside of Bane’s cock. Bane released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, the rush of air sounding like static in the room. He choked on his breath when John parted his lips wider and took Bane fully into his mouth.

The mask made it hard to breathe but Bane was grateful for the way it muffled and distorted his moan into something less degrading. Bane clenched his eyes closed and tried to regain some composure but was derailed by the wet noise of John removing his mouth. “I want you to watch me, Bane.”

Bane’s eyes flashed open. There was John, on his knees, face flushed, lips shiny with spit. Bane was fully hard in the circle of John’s fist, stretching those fingers wide. Soon it would be John’s lips being spread; Bane knew that would be his reward for watching. John kept their eyes locked as he stroked Bane a few more times, base to tip, and lapped at the precome beaded there.

“Wait,” Bane croaked, realizing with horror that his stamina would fail him sooner than he was ready.

John kept one hand around Bane’s cock and used his other to take Bane’s hand, leading it to the back of John’s head. “You gave me this task and I know you want it. I won’t wait.”

John cradled Bane with both hands, palming Bane’s balls and the base of his erection. He didn’t wait for Bane to answer, only dropped his head and swallowed Bane whole. Bane’s fingers flexed but John’s hair was too short to grip. Instead he situated his hand at the base of John’s skull and added a bit of pressure there, shuddering when John moaned around his mouthful. Bane didn’t want to choke John but it was addictive hearing his noises as if he was actually aroused and enjoying this too. Tentatively Bane lifted his hips to shove more of his length past John’s lips and groaned when John took it all without complaint.

He didn't know how John wasn't choking, but Bane wouldn't stop him to ask. Bane watched the way John's lips stretched wide around his width, cheeks hollowing when John sucked. There was nothing in the world to Bane except John's lips and his hot, wet tongue teasing his shaft. They were enemies, not lovers. Bane knew that. But for this moment Bane let his body curl around John and pretend that this was what it felt like to share desire with another person, to _be_ desired.

John didn't give him a break or a chance to catch his breath. There was no opportunity for Bane to stave off the building tidal wave of pleasure, to ease off and make things last. John was breathing shallowly through his nose, mouth bobbing on Bane's cock even when Bane tried to hold him back. Bane was overheated and sweaty, his heart racing in his ears, arousal overpowering pain and morphine both.

Bane wanted to delay it, wanted this feeling to last forever, and yet he had never been so impatient for an ending. "John," he moaned; plea and prayer combined.

John hummed around him in answer and Bane was lost. He had just enough sense to let go of John's neck and grip the frame of the cot instead as his climax ripped through him like a wildfire. Bane panted and groaned through it, fighting back the needier noises he refused to voice for others in the sewers to overhear. His body tensed and arched, every nerve alight with flame. John stayed, one hand on Bane's thigh and the other aiming the remaining ropes of come back onto Bane's own shirt after John swallowed the first mouthful.

Finally, seconds or eons later, Bane's body calmed. His shirt was a mess, his breathing even more so. Bane remembered to let go of his cot's frame and felt the imprints of his fingers in the metal. John had moved from his knees to a seated position, wiping wetness from his mouth as he met Bane's gaze. "There, a positive experience."

Bane didn't know what to say, his normally-sharp brain a muddle. From the way John was sitting, Bane couldn't tell if he had an erection or not. Bane supposed it didn't matter; that wasn't what this was about. "Your hair is too short to hold," was the only statement he deemed remotely appropriate to voice.

John snorted and began to stand. "I'll take that under advisement."

"You've done that before," Bane accused. There was no way John could do that for the first time and control his gag reflex. Perhaps Bane's jabs at a girlfriend really had been off-base.

"We're not playing Twenty Questions anymore," John brushed him off, stretching out his legs and then his wrists. "Our deal is fulfilled. I'm going home."

It shouldn't have hurt; Bane shouldn't have _let it_ hurt. But it was a blade between the ribs and twisted. He wouldn't indulge this weakness though, especially not where it could be observed by his enemy. Bane stood from the bed, faking a strength that was still sapped. He pulled off his soiled shirt and took his time finding another one, noting the way John's eyes tracked his revealed skin. This was interesting information but not helpful, only adding a biting sting to the festering wound in his chest.

Bane clipped on his belt but left his body armour. John was unarmed and they would be traveling through friendly territory. From his jacket pocket, Bane removed the handcuff key and unclipped the cuff from John’s left wrist. He brushed his thumb over the bruise there, confirming there was no broken skin, and then he let John’s hand drop away. “Let’s go.”

By the time they entered the tunnels, Bane’s legs felt steady again and his heart was back to its calm pace. They walked in silence through the darkness, not crossing paths with anyone who would question or stop them. Bane took them a different route than the one they had used with Amelia even though he had blindfolded John again, leading John from the sewers into an abandoned section of train tunnels. John’s foot caught a rail but Bane caught him with a firm grip on his bicep until John regained his footing. John shrugged him off without a word but followed closer to Bane’s side after that.

All too soon the tunnel entrance was before them, letting in the faintest glimmer of moonlight. They passed two sentries tucked away in the tunnel’s initial shadows, Bane taking John back to open, fresh air. He removed the blindfold and watched John stare up at the moon before looking away, blinking rapidly as he adjusted to the brightness. “Which direction?” Bane asked.

John crossed his arms, giving Bane a cold look. “This wasn’t a date, nor do I belong to you, so you don’t get to walk me home.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Bane pointed out. Things weren’t as dangerous now as they would be soon, but that didn’t mean Gotham was a safe city to traverse at night.

“I’ve been fine on my own up until now,” John retorted. “ _Don’t_ follow me.”

Rooted in place, Bane watched John walk away to confirm that John did not hesitate or look back before turning a corner out of sight. Bane embraced the ache somewhere deep inside and his own self-hatred when he was forced to acknowledge that maybe he was still playing the fool.

#

With the distraction gone, Bane re-invested himself fully in their work. He oversaw the final stages of cement pouring while Daggett’s crony acquired Wayne’s fingerprints and Talia adjusted her position with Bruce Wayne and Wayne Enterprises. It was a slow-moving game of chess but a brilliant one all the same. Each of their pieces moved with intent, sacrifices and diversions keeping Gotham City skittering about like prey running from an unseen pack of predators.

It was rare when Bane and Talia were together, busy as she was playing her role of well-meaning citizen. Even when they met there was little conversation, Talia focused only on her strategy and every intricate step they would take. Bane was relieved, truthfully, that Talia was too self-focused to check in on Bane or ask any difficult questions. Bane wouldn’t lie to her but he knew she would not take kindly to learning that a second person had managed to wedge their way into Bane’s thoughts. She was as possessive as Bane was.

Bane hadn’t moved John’s temporary mattress from the corner, though he had taken the time to pack away the handcuffs, the spare blanket and the change of clothes in a drawer away from the dampness in the air. During the days Bane kept John as far from his thoughts as possible, a distant fantasy that was easily brushed aside anytime it drifted near. It was harder at night when Bane lay on his cot before falling asleep. Those were the times Bane’s mind insisted on recalling every vivid detail.

John had touched him so gently, each caress of his fingers and mouth filled with an intent of sharing pleasure. He had led Bane’s hand to the back of his head and moaned when Bane held him, as if he had enjoyed it. As if it was _okay_ to enjoy it. Like they weren’t enemies; like John wasn’t a prisoner doing whatever was necessary to escape. Except John had made it more than clear afterwards that it had been nothing more than a ploy, one Bane had been momentarily blinded by.

There was no doubt that the blowjob had felt amazing; Bane couldn’t dispute that. He just had to remind himself – _again, again, again_ – that it had been nothing more than a transaction. Bane could almost convince himself every time, until he remembered two moments when John’s behaviour indicated something else entirely. When John admitted that he liked the idea of Bane holding him down and when John’s eyes had mapped the shape of Bane’s bare back and chest.

Attraction was different than affection; Bane was more than aware of this concept. Case in point, Bane may have had the best orgasm of his life – as promised – and he may want another one, but that didn’t mean he _cared_ about John. Bane didn’t even know anything about him, nor did he want to. Eventually Bane slammed a hand against the wall, relishing the resulting pain that briefly sidetracked him. Then he rolled over and tried to force all thoughts from his mind because all the truths and lies he was telling himself were becoming so jumbled he couldn’t pry them apart anymore.

#

“Grab another cop on your next patrol,” Bane told Barsad as they finished adding stocks to their primary armoury. “A low ranking one.”

“Do we need to interrogate another one before the occupation begins?” Barsad asked.

“Extra information always holds value,” Bane said.

He knew Barsad realized Bane had avoided answering the question directly; there was a reason he kept Barsad as his second in command. The other reason was because even though Barsad studied him for a minute, he didn’t ask any more questions. “I’ll go out tonight.” Bane acknowledged this with a nod. “And I’ll tell the scouts to keep an eye out for any uninvited guests.” Bane ignored Barsad’s second statement, leaving the room without another word.

Bane slept uneasily that night, wondering if he was making the right choice. It had been two weeks since John walked away and didn’t look back. Bane had decided he needed one more encounter with the cop to know for sure if all of John’s actions had been a bluff or if they hid something more. After that Bane could leave John solidly in his past and focus on the upcoming occupation. If things went according to plan, Talia would gain access to the reactor and they would occupy Gotham in less than a month’s time.

Part of Bane wondered if John would even come. Maybe Amelia had been important to him, even if she wasn’t his girlfriend, and this new prisoner would not be considered worth the risk. Especially considering the fact that John knew exactly what he would be walking into this time, what he would be expected to do to win back his freedom a second time.

Despite Bane’s uncertainty, John arrived. Bane had found reasons to remain in the sewers the day after Barsad took their prisoner, finding tasks to fill his time. He heard a throat being cleared behind him and Bane set down the book he had been reading on his desk, glancing over his shoulder. There was John, standing this time but still with his hands behind his back. His uniform looked new, or at least crisp from a new cleaning, and the cuts on John’s face and lip had healed fully.

“He came unarmed this time,” Barsad informed him. He handed Bane the key for the cuffs and then left without another word. 

They watched one another for a long time, reading every micro detail they could spot. John was the one to break the heavy silence first with a sigh. “I offer the same thing as last time.” _Myself_. “Are you going to leash me again or can we just get this over with?”

“The deal has changed,” Bane said. “Information first.”

“Like before?” John clarified and Bane nodded. John weighed this, shifting his weight uneasily. “Alright. But only five pieces of information each, same as before.”

Bane kept the excitement from his face. “Agreed.” He stepped behind John but paused before inserting the key. “I would advise you not to run.”

“I wouldn’t make it without a gun anyway,” John admitted, making no effort to flee when Bane removed the cuffs. Bane had no use for the second pair of cuffs and handed them back to John, who pocketed them in his police jacket. As if he was visiting an old friend instead of treading through enemy territory, John walked into the room and sat on the edge of Bane’s cot. “So what do you want to know so desperately?”

Bane memorized the sight of John sitting on his bed and then took the chair in front of his desk. Bane had already decided that asking John directly about their last encounter would reveal too many vulnerabilities. His goal today was to learn more about the cop to satiate some of Bane’s curiosity about him. The difficulty was that Bane had to reveal information about himself first if he wanted to direct the conversation where he wished.

“I never knew my parents,” Bane was careful with each word he said and shared.

John’s eyebrows rose, clearly taken aback by the topic of choice. Then he answered. “My mom died in a car accident when I was young. A few years later my dad got himself shot.”

“An orphanage?” Bane guessed. John sent him a pointed look, refusing to answer until Bane offered some information first. “I was raised by a street gang until I was caught and thrown in jail.”

John nodded now, leaning his forearms on his thighs. “An orphanage, yeah. A few foster homes but they didn’t last.” Silence fell again, awkward and expectant. Bane only had three more slivers of information he could wrench from John and he wanted them to count. However, before he could speak, John took the lead. “I aged out at the orphanage when I was sixteen. I lived on the streets for a bit until I made enough money to take the policing tests. Did your prison sentence end?”

“No, I was broken out by someone,” Bane answered.

“Someone,” John prompted. Bane narrowed his eyes in warning. “Found family?” John was being careful with his words too, asking questions specific enough to lead where he wanted but vague enough that Bane was likely to answer. “I’ve been on my own since I left the orphanage.”

_Found family_. Was that what Talia was? It was what Bane had hoped for when he first saw the innocent child in that Pit. Bane had wanted to protect her, the way no one had protected him when he was young and alone in those dark cells. When she escaped, Talia sent her father back to rescue Bane. But Bane had been rejected, excommunicated from the closest thing to a family he had ever known. Talia had come back to him when her father was murdered but she had been all anger then, and Bane had been a weapon in her vision.

“Family is a strong word to use.” Even as he said the words, they felt like a betrayal. Bane was supposed to be grateful to Talia and support her without question.

John opened his mouth and then closed it again, mulling this over. John moved his hands down to rest on the edge of the cot and Bane noticed the exact moment John became aware of the indents Bane’s fingers had left two weeks ago. John looked down to study the indentations and even when he glanced back at Bane, he didn’t pull his fingers away. “Well this is your fucked up deal in the first place so you might as well pick the last topic.”

Already Bane was wondering whether he could get John down here again. If this was their last time together, what did Bane want to know more than anything else? Bane already knew the answer to that, but was he willing to risk revealing something he shouldn’t simply for a chance that John _may_ provide a similar answer in return? In the end, Bane decided that he wanted to know, one way or the other, and if this was his last opportunity to find out, Bane wouldn’t squander it.

“I enjoyed our last encounter.”

The width of John’s fingers slotted into the grooves from Bane’s fingers as John held the edge of the cot with a white-knuckled grip. “Yes, I assumed you did.” John’s eyes were on the wall, the floor, anywhere but Bane’s searching face. A humourless bark of laughter escaped John’s lips. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done such a good job.” None of these were answers and they both knew it. Bane stayed silent, waiting until John finally spoke again. “It wasn’t the worst blowjob I’ve ever given.”

This statement filled Bane with more questions than answers but they had reached the end of their arrangement. The information exchange was finished. Now John would fulfill the second half of the deal and disappear like smoke before Bane could figure out how to pin him down. It was John who stood up when Bane remained motionless in his chair. As John found his place between Bane’s legs, Bane noticed that his smooth confidence from the first encounter was gone. Now John seemed uncertain, wary even, as he undid the button of Bane’s pants and pulled down the zipper.

Bane expected John to remove his pants and underwear like last time. John had a different plan in mind, widening the vee-shaped opening of Bane’s pants with his fingers before mouthing at Bane’s cock through the fabric of his underwear. Bane’s breath caught at the sensation, drawing John’s attention as he glanced up from his position between Bane’s legs. John didn’t need to lead him this time as Bane slid his fingers through John’s hair before cradling the back of his neck.

Bane’s cock started to swell before he was even out of his underwear, John coaxing it to hardness with hungry lips and a wet tongue. Bane’s sharp intake of breath seemed to have wiped away John’s apprehension and he soon hooked Bane’s underwear under his balls to free his half-hard length. John returned his mouth immediately, this time to the bare flesh of Bane’s shaft. This somehow felt more personal to Bane, John’s face pressed in close rather than keeping as much distance as he could by only using his hand when Bane was still hardening.

It only took a few minutes until Bane was hard and throbbing against his own abdomen. John wrapped a fist around him to change the angle, the head of Bane’s cock aimed at John’s mouth. With his free hand, John tugged Bane’s pants and underwear a little farther down his legs, exposing his upper thighs. Bane had never been self-conscious about nudity in his life but he gained a new appreciation for the sexual aspect of it when John spared a moment to nip a line of marks up Bane’s inner thigh. The marks were superficial, faded as soon as John’s mouth moved on, but each one was an injection of arousal into Bane’s core.

John’s mouth moved naturally from Bane’s thigh to the underside of his cock, sucking the swollen vein there on his way toward Bane's slit. Precome smeared at the corner of John’s mouth as his tongue teased Bane’s crown and then withdrew. John must have felt the wetness on his skin but he didn’t wipe it off when he looked up at Bane again. John dared to smirk, same as last time. “I wonder if you’ll last longer this time.”

_Unlikely_ , Bane thought. “I suppose that depends on you,” Bane said aloud, doubting that he sounded as nonchalant as he wanted.

_Challenge accepted_ , John’s smile seemed to say. But before Bane could analyze it further, John’s lips parted and took Bane’s erection into his mouth. It was similar to the first time but no less pleasurable. John squeezed Bane’s base with one hand and then sunk his lips down to meet the circle of his fingers, sucking as he pulled back off to repeat the movement. Bane’s legs shook as he spread them wider, his boots skidding over concrete when John sucked particularly hard on the crown of Bane’s cock.

John shifted his weight forward, both shoulders wedged between Bane’s thighs. His free hand found Bane’s hip, gripping so hard it was like John feared falling. Bane’s fingers flexed repeatedly against John’s neck as he fought the temptation to pull John down and force his length deeper. It felt good to hold John down but it was nothing compared to the arousal that flooded Bane’s veins when it felt like John was moving closer and taking more of his own volition… like he _wanted_ Bane’s cock down his throat. In this moment it didn’t even matter to Bane if this was real or fake because his senses were overwhelmed by the most arousing experience of his life.

John had never wiped away that first smear of precome and now there was more, precome and saliva coating his lips and dribbling down his chin. Bane moved his hands instinctively. One hand cradled John’s jaw and John froze mid-suck to look up at him; eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed, lips stretched wide around Bane’s girth. With his other hand, Bane caressed the pads of his fingers curiously along the seam of John’s mouth, spreading wetness and feeling the tension where John's lips met hard flesh.

"You are beautiful," Bane rumbled, because it suddenly felt very important that John know this even if they were enemies and nothing more. Bane expected John to ignore him or maybe even pull away. Instead, John leaned into Bane's touch and closed his eyes for an instant, acceptance in the peaceful expression on his face.

The moment was freeze-frame perfect in Bane's mind and he knew he would never forget this for the rest of his life. He didn't argue when John eventually leaned away from Bane's hands and cock, resting his forehead on Bane's leg as he dragged in quick, deep breaths. Bane hadn't realized that it might be hard for John to breathe with such a mouthful while his head was tilted back but he gave John the time he needed to steady his breathing.

John never voiced a reply to Bane's compliment but it felt like a confession when John twined their fingers together and returned Bane's hand to his hair. Bane took great pleasure in combing his fingers through John's hair while John lapped greedily at the slit of Bane's cock, which was now weeping freely. John stroked Bane slow and firm, milking more precome onto his waiting tongue.

Bane was so entranced with watching John and memorizing the exact heat of John's tongue that he didn't realize he was approaching orgasm until he was already teetering on the edge. Bane's fingers slid through John's hair, still too short to grab, and Bane was forced to grip his own thighs to avoid hurting John. He groaned low and growing louder as spasms twisted through his body with each brush of John's tongue. Blessed release came when John sheathed Bane's length with his lips, sucking and not pulling away even when Bane's seed filled his mouth.

Bane was lightheaded when he was finally spent, his chest heaving. He was quickly brought back to reality with a grunt by a sharp pinch of pain to the left of his belly button. Bane looked down and watched with confusion while John used teeth and suction to darken a mouth-shaped bruise onto Bane's skin, his lips swollen and red when John moved back. Bane hadn't even noticed when John had shoved Bane's shirt up towards his ribs. They both eyed the dark purple hickey and then each other.

Bane wanted to understand John's motivations but he had a feeling John would reject any questions, and that it would speed up their parting if Bane tried to force the topic. He didn't ask, merely pressed a thumb against the mark to feel its ache. Bane's body was sated but he still felt a little spark of arousal from that. John's gaze didn't waver, studying the hickey and Bane's reaction. Only when Bane reached for him did John lean away, pulling himself slowly to his feet.

"This is hard on the fucking knees," John winced and stretched out his legs one at a time. Bane pulled his pants up and his shirt down, no mess to clean up since John had swallowed it all this time. Another spark of arousal went through Bane when he lingered on _that_ thought. As John stretched, Bane could see a bulge at the front of his pants, betraying John's arousal. Bane stood from the chair quickly and approached but John tensed and knocked away Bane's hand before he could touch. "Don't."

Undeterred, Bane reached forward again. "John—"

" _Don't!_ " John said again, sharper this time.

Desire, curiosity and confusion warred within him but Bane stepped back. John had alluded to being forced in the past and Bane wouldn't do that to him anymore than this setup already did. Uncuffed and unleashed, John was free to walk away. He didn't go far, leaning on the railing overlooking the waterfall with his back facing Bane. There was nothing Bane wanted more in that moment than to walk over and stand next to John, to somehow convince him that he could speak his mind. He held back though, respecting John's silent request for space. Bane hadn't exactly earned any trust when he forced John into this bargain in the first place. 

Bane picked up his book, trying and failing to focus on the text. It was for show rather than a genuine distraction but it was all Bane could manage. His body had calmed after his climax and Bane was left feeling empty afterwards. He truly was acting the fool and yet there was a part of him that didn't even want to stop. It would be easier to set the desire aside and remind himself that this was a transaction if John wasn't sending so many mixed signals, drawing Bane in as much as he pushed Bane away.

Bane didn't know how much time had passed. After a while Bane gave up on the book and set it on his desk. It was nearly dinner and Bane could feel the first pang of hunger but he wouldn't risk leaving now and rushing John away. Bane spent his time watching John, viewing John's features in profile. Occasionally John looked over his shoulder at Bane, turning away quickly each time their eyes met. Bane rode the waves of exhilaration and disappointment with each turn, acknowledging that this was the most invested in anything he had felt in a long time.

Time slowed down when John finally, _finally_ walked towards him. Bane remained seated, unclear about how much space John needed to avoid sending him fleeing anew. John stopped a few feet in front of where Bane sat, crossing his arms. The telltale bulge in John’s pants was gone. "I have a new deal for you."

Bane didn't move an inch. "I'm listening."

John scuffed the toe of his shoe against the concrete, fidgeting with discomfort. "I will continue to visit every two weeks if you stop kidnapping people."

Bane pursed his lips although John couldn’t see his expression. “Having no prisoner to rescue doesn’t offer much incentive.”

John rolled his eyes. “If I’m coming down here anyway, I’d rather save people the traumatic experience.”

“How noble,” Bane mocked.

John scowled. “I don’t care what you think of me, only the deal.”

Bane had planned to continue the kidnappings to ensure John kept coming back. John was intelligent to foresee Bane’s actions and circumvent them, especially when the kidnappings were becoming a show without any other purpose anyway. Bane didn’t doubt that John cared about saving other people from a traumatic experience; after all, he had already sacrificed his freedom and dignity twice now for the sake of others.

Yet Bane couldn’t help but wonder if John’s new proposal was its own attempted show, giving John an excuse to come back down here, to his enemy, by playing the hero. Even if John hadn’t let Bane touch him and hadn’t gotten himself off, there was no denying his erection after sucking Bane off; they had both seen it. Not to mention the livid bruise on Bane’s abdomen where John had decided, despite all sense and reason, to mark his enemy in a moment of passion.

Bane might be playing a dangerous game but so was John. It was war games played out in the form of a dance, a delicate give and take, push and pull. Bane was certain that to some extent, whether the draw was purely physical or otherwise, John wanted this to continue as much as Bane did. Maybe, if they maintained this dance, Bane could reel him in closer, twine John so tightly in this fragile desire that he wouldn’t even want to leave.

“Would these visits stay the same otherwise?” Bane clarified.

John uncrossed his arms slowly. “Yes,” he confirmed. “An exchange of information and then sex.”

_Sex_ was a broader word than _blowjob_. Bane wondered if it was intentional, but knew he would need to wait two weeks to find out. He stood from his chair, pleased when John stood his ground and didn’t flinch away. Bane held out a hand and felt something thrum in his chest when John accepted it with a shake. “I accept your new deal, John Blake.”

John looked up at him through his lashes and offered the tiniest smile.

Two weeks couldn’t come soon enough.


	4. Chapter 4

“I know you’re not stupid but I feel the need to say this anyway: be careful.”

Bane had felt Barsad’s gaze on him for the last few minutes but he had been ignoring it. He considered ignoring Barsad’s warning as well, though he knew it wouldn’t solve anything. “This is a separate chess game. It will not affect the main board,” he assured his brother in arms.

“That is an impossible claim and you know it,” Barsad refuted. Barsad spoke openly only because they were out of earshot of the sentries posted deeper in the tunnel. They stood shoulder to shoulder at the tunnel entrance, waiting to see if John would show up as promised. Barsad continued when Bane remained silent. “In less than a week the occupation will begin. As soon as that bomb is primed, you will be on one side or the other. You know John can’t survive if Talia’s plans succeed.”

“I do not entertain threats,” Bane rumbled. His eyes were fixed on the alleyway he expected John would arrive through. Bane had to use a blindfold each time he took John through the tunnels but this was where he had been returned to the surface after their two previous encounters.

“Bane, if I was going to tell Talia about John I would have done so already.”

At this statement, Bane finally looked over. “Then what are you saying?”

“That you will need to decide, sooner rather than later, which one of them you intend to keep alive,” Barsad replied.

Bane’s eyes narrowed. “Those are traitorous words.”

“No more traitorous than your thoughts, I’m sure,” Barsad countered. “I’m a survivor. You know this. The tides will shift depending on what you decide and I would prefer to follow rather than drown.”

Bane knew that the goals of Talia and John were not synonymous. They couldn’t be further apart. One was a cop intent on protecting his city and the other was determined to make the police powerless as their city burned to the ground. Bane had ignored this dichotomy until now, telling himself that his time with John occurred in a void that didn’t make him a traitor to the woman he had sworn to protect. Barsad was right though; Bane’s time in no man’s land would come to an abrupt end very soon.

“It depends as well on if he even comes back,” Bane mused. John had no real reason to return to the tunnels; there was nothing more than a delicate, hopeful promise between them. Even if Bane started kidnapping people again there was a chance John wouldn’t come, particularly once the occupation began. John may decide it wasn’t worth the risk or that Bane was too much of a monster to be bargained with.

“Worry not; that looks like him there,” Barsad elbowed him. Bane looked down the alley and there John was. John wasn’t in uniform this time which was peculiar, but Bane was familiar now with the man’s gait and posture even at a distance. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. I have things to do anyway.”

“We’re not lovers,” Bane snapped at him.

Barsad raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Then what exactly have you two been doing, starting a book club?”

“Leave,” Bane ordered, out of patience and not wanting Barsad to say anything so ridiculous in front of John.

Barsad chuckled, inclined his head, and walked into the shadow of the tunnel. “Think about what I said,” Barsad called over his shoulder.

By now John was close enough that Bane could make out the features of his face, the way John’s eyes constantly scanned his surroundings for danger. He was dressed in a set of nice, non-descript clothes. Dark jeans, a black sweater and a navy overcoat, fighting off the air’s chill that overcame the sun’s watery rays. It would be winter soon and seeing John bundled up in warm clothes brought back the memory of John shivering under threadbare blankets next to Bane’s cot. Bane brushed aside the unwanted memory.

“I was not sure that you would come,” Bane said when John was within earshot.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure either,” John admitted.

John sighed and raised his arms without complaint so that Bane could search him for weapons. Bane found nothing but lingered in John’s personal space. “No weapons?”

“It would be pretty hard to explain how I kept losing my police-issued gun to you every two weeks,” John pointed out with a wry smile.

Barsad’s warnings echoed in the back of Bane’s mind. “Wear it next time. I will return it when you leave.”

John tilted his head slightly, considering his words but not asking more. “Alright.”

John didn’t shy away from the blindfold when Bane pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over; this had become some bizarre version of routine for them now. What _was_ new was John resting a hand hesitantly on Bane’s forearm to be led rather than walking blind and tripping repeatedly. Bane kept John steady as they walked through the tunnels, struggling to maintain some semblance of nonchalance.

The sound of the waterfall must have been familiar enough for John to recognize because he took off the blindfold himself when they reached Bane’s alcove. Bane allowed it, knowing John had seen everything in this area before and that he would not glean new information from another look around. Bane shrugged out of his jacket and John removed his own to set it aside. Bane had forgone his body armour today so he was dressed even more casually than John in cargo pants and a black vee shirt. “You’re not in your uniform,” Bane observed as John set the blindfold on the workbench surface.

“Promotion,” John explained. “I’m a detective now. They say I’m one of their best chances at stopping you.” John eyed him, hands balled into fists, likely wondering if Bane would decide he was too much of a risk and snap his neck.

Bane took slow, measured steps forward until they were face to face. Then he wrapped one hand loosely around John’s throat, fingers on his vertebrae and thumb against his trachea. John swallowed hard but stared up at him, unmoving and contemplative. Was this what fledgling trust felt like? When you had the power to cause ruin but did not follow through, and when someone else believed in you enough to risk their life?

“They are probably right,” Bane conceded softly, using his thumb to stroke that sensitive, vulnerable skin.

After another endless moment, Bane removed his hand and stepped back. He didn’t miss the way John’s body wavered, leaning toward his retreating form for an instant before John held himself back. “Bane—” John’s voice broke and he cleared his throat before trying again. “I have questions but I don’t know what information I could share to equal the answers.”

“Ask them,” Bane said. “Then I will decide.”

John began to pace and Bane sat on his cot to watch him and wait. “Your mask…” John glanced at it. “Can it be removed?”

“I eat and drink the way you do, so yes,” Bane answered. Bane was cautious about the information he provided but intrigued as well. He wondered to what extent John’s questions were motivated by personal versus strategic curiosity.

John's eyes widened at Bane’s response. Bane supposed it made sense that John was surprised since Bane had never eaten in front of him during the week John was held captive down here. “So it doesn’t keep you alive?”

Bane shook his head. “It merely helps with pain.”

“Pain?” John’s pacing ceased.

“My past found me at the end of a scalpel wielded by a doctor without skill or sense.” That was as much detail as Bane was willing to share for that story, though the memory alone soured him. Bane remembered Talia’s father reacting to Bane’s face; imagining John’s reaction to the same sight tore a bitter laugh from him. “My mask hides scars that would add to the list of reasons why you would not wish to be down here with me if you had any other choice.”

John stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and stared at the ground. “Would you show me?”

“No.”

John frowned but didn’t argue the point. “What price have I incurred for this information?”

“Three truthful answers,” Bane said, his questions already firm in his mind.

Unexpectedly, John sat next to Bane on the cot. He rested his elbows on his thighs and his chin on the top of his hands, angled towards Bane. “Okay.”

“What was the purpose of the hickey?” Bane questioned.

“I had a feeling no one had ever marked you before and I wanted to be the first,” John responded boldly, barely blinking. “Was I right?”

“We’re on my questions now,” Bane dodged. “You had an erection during our last encounter.”

It wasn’t worded as a question but John answered him anyway. “Yes.”

“But you wouldn’t let me touch you,” Bane said. “Why?” 

“Because I fucking shouldn’t!” John exclaimed indignantly. “This is all so messed up already. I know I volunteered and I paid the price I agreed to, but that doesn’t mean I should _enjoy_ it.”

“But you do,” Bane pressed, eager now for a confession he never thought he’d get.

“Yeah, of course I do.” John scrubbed a hand over his face, clearly agitated. “It's the biggest turn on of my life having the strongest, most dangerous man in the world tremble at my touch. Not to mention your size, or—” John cut himself off with a violent headshake, as if dislodging an unwanted thought.

“Or?”

John held up a hand like he was physically stopping Bane from pursuing the subject. “You’re my enemy, Bane. I know you won’t tell me what your plan is and I know there’s probably very little I can do to stop you. But whatever your goals are here, they aren’t good for me or my city. So no, I’m not exactly eager to admit that being with you turns me on.”

"Being here is admitting something," Bane murmured. He placed a hand on John's thigh, pleased when John didn't knock him away. Bane had seen the proof for himself when John was aroused last time, but it was something entirely different to hear the man say it out loud. It flooded Bane's brain with new desires, envisioning all the things he wanted to do with John that he never thought he'd want to share with another human being. How far would this be allowed to progress? How far over the line would they wander together?

"Yes..." John studied Bane's hand on his thigh. "So is kidnapping people just so I'll come back."

"Yes, I suppose it is," Bane replied.

"While we're here making bad life choices, can I admit one more thing?" Bane nodded in agreement, grateful that John wasn't aware of the way Bane's heart skipped a beat. "I really want to see you without your mask."

Bane sighed. "Trust me, you don't."

"Fine," John said, more dejected than angry.

Without another word, John lifted his legs to sit crossed legged on the cot. He turned himself to sit facing Bane for a moment and then started to lie backwards. Bane stood up to make room for John's legs when his feet prodded Bane's side. Bane was in disbelief at the sight before him, John sprawled out across the length of his bed and taking Bane's hand to pull him down too.

Bane resisted. "I'll crush you."

"You won't let yourself," John countered, and he sounded confident enough that Bane let himself be drawn down.

They settled with John on his back and Bane straddling John's chest, holding himself aloft on his hands and knees. "What will this achieve?" Bane asked with confusion.

"Giving my knees a break," John explained.

With Bane's legs spread, John had easy access to rub the heel of his palm against Bane's crotch. Bane let his legs fold to sit back on his heels, prying off his belt and dropping it to the floor. Then he angled his hips forward, leaning into the pressure of John's touch. Bane had told himself before John arrived that he needed to make things last longer this time but the sight of John sprawled out under him was unbearably enticing.

As soon as Bane started to swell, John undid the zipper of Bane's pants, pulled the fabric down Bane's hips, and fished out his cock. Bane shuddered in John's hand and thrust into the circle of his fist, seeking more. John pumped Bane's cock, encouraging it to harden, and caressed his thumb over Bane's tip. "Well we've discovered at least one thing you like," John teased. Bane raised an eyebrow. John lifted himself to brush the head of Bane's cock along the seam of his closed lips. Bane's breath hitched and John smiled smugly. "A willing partner."

_Willing._

_Partner_.

With as much force as he dared, Bane placed both palms on John's shoulders and carefully held him down. The reaction was instantaneous. John moaned and arched into it, not to dislodge Bane but to intensify the pressure. Bane leaned forward, adding more of his weight. He was fixated on John's face, the red in his cheeks and the glassy gleam of arousal in his eyes. John stroked Bane roughly, bringing him to full hardness in seconds. Bane was enthralled, single-minded in his desire as all the blood in his body rushed between his legs.

Bane was so intently focused on John's reactions that he noticed the moment things went too far. It was nothing more than a tiny wince and a twisting of John's lips into a grimace but Bane sat back immediately and lifted onto his knees to fully remove his weight. John's hand paused as he opened his eyes, panting and staring up at Bane with open desire. "It's okay. I'm okay."

"You do not enjoy pain," Bane quoted John from their first discussion.

John exhaled heavily. He grabbed Bane's hips first, dragging him down until Bane let his legs fold again and a portion of his weight rest on John's chest. Then John held out both hands, palm up. "Give me your hands." Bane offered his hands and watched as John led them both to cradle the back of John's head and neck. "Just support me when I sit up. You won't hurt me."

"Why—?"

Bane's unfinished question was answered when John sat up on his elbows and wrapped his mouth around Bane's cock. Bane understood what John wanted from him, feeling the strain of muscles in John's neck and shoulders. Bane used his strength to prop up John's upper body, helping him maintain his position without effort. There was no pain for John with Bane supporting him. They were merely fulfilling a fantasy; one they could both enjoy. John could pretend he was being held in place, even though Bane would let go at the first sign of discomfort, all while controlling the pace. At the same time, Bane was treated to the unforgettable sight and sensation of John feeding Bane's cock into his mouth.

John bobbed his mouth along Bane's length a few times and then he swirled this tongue under the ridge of the crown. The heat and wetness of John's mouth felt like velvet, Bane barely containing the urge to thrust forward. Bane hadn't tried to touch himself since their last encounter but Bane had thought about this every night, how amazing it felt each time John swallowed around him. It had been worth it to wait so that he was sensitive to each touch and suck.

With Bane holding up his weight, John had full use of his arms. John’s hands gripped Bane’s hips, fingers indenting the slivers of skin exposed where Bane’s pants were shoved down just enough to free his length. Then he pulled Bane’s hips forward and back, demonstrating the gentle sway Bane should continue on his own. Bane looked down and John was looking up at him through his lashes, looking pleading and hungry with his mouth full of Bane’s cock. There was a moment where Bane hesitated, worried he would hurt John again. But John trusted him and wanted this so Bane relented.

John’s hands stilled on Bane’s hips but didn’t move away. Bane gently thrust forward into John’s mouth, pushing only an inch of his length past those lips and back out with each sway. John’s eyes closed and he moaned around Bane’s cock, sucking harder in encouragement when Bane repeated the movement again, and again. John’s body became loose and pliant in Bane’s grasp, trusting Bane to hold him close as Bane started to tentatively fuck John’s mouth.

Bane’s pleasure was unparalleled, and it was twofold.

First, the wet hole of John’s mouth felt exquisite as Bane thrust his cock in, first one inch and then two inches at a time. Even when Bane cautiously increased his pace, John only moaned louder and sucked around him in reward. It made Bane want to turn John over and bury his cock inside John’s ass, to feel how tight and hot he was between his legs, but Bane wouldn’t distract from this pleasure by wishing for something else.

Second, there was something incredibly heady about the implicit trust John was demonstrating. John was at the bottom of a maze of sewers, unarmed and surrounded by enemies. He was physically beneath Bane’s immovable weight, pinned between the bed and Bane’s steady hold. Bane could force his cock down John’s throat, choke him and break his neck when he was finished if he chose to. And yet John was relaxed in Bane’s arms, letting Bane use his body.

Bane could feel heat beginning to coil in his gut as he spilled precome onto John’s tongue. John swallowed it down without complaint, though his hands left Bane’s hips. Bane looked back over his shoulder to see John’s hands fumbling with the zipper of his own jeans, lifting his hips to shove the fabric down and out of the way impatiently. It was a horrible angle for watching and yet Bane couldn’t look away. This was the first time Bane had seen John’s cock and he was already hard.

John took himself in hand and stroked himself with something closer to desperation than finesse. Bane tried to reach back, eager to touch and to feel, but John gave a displeased grunt when he lost some upper body support. Bane resituated his hands on John’s neck and upper back, sinking his cock a little deeper past John’s lips this time. He wanted to do everything to and with John but Bane told himself he would get another chance. For now he would take John’s mouth and relish the sound of John’s fist working swollen flesh behind him.

Bane could feel the way his erection throbbed, precome flowing freely into John’s mouth. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, in his ears. All Bane heard was the thrum of his own body and John’s pleasured noises lingering in the air. Bane wanted to last longer, always longer, but he was far beyond the point of no return. “John,” he grunted in warning as his balls tightened, his legs trembling.

In answer, John took a deep breath and shoved his mouth down to the base of Bane’s length, swallowing around the head. It broke the floodgates as Bane muttered a curse, arching forward to bury his seed down John’s throat. He watched John’s throat work, swallowing the first two ropes of come before he choked. Bane let go of John’s upper body and eased back immediately, the last three spurts of come streaking over John’s neck and reddened cheeks.

John’s fist never stopped working. Despite his dizziness and the ringing in his ears, Bane shuffled backwards to sit on John’s calves and pin them down. Bane gripped the waistband of John’s jeans and underwear and yanked them further down, exposing John’s balls and thighs. At the same time, John used his clean hand to tug his sweater and undershirt up to his chest, revealing his skin a moment before a glob of precome dribbled onto his belly.

Deciding that he would ask for forgiveness rather than permission, Bane smeared John’s precome onto his index finger and reached between John’s thighs. Bane found John’s hole and slid his coated finger in, another tremor overtaking his body when he felt John stretch around him. “Oh fuck,” John whispered as he stroked himself frantically, his head falling back on the cot. “Bane…” John whined, panting harshly and hips thrusting down on Bane’s digit. “Please.”

Bane thrust his finger in as deep as he could reach, watching his finger disappear and imagining it was his cock instead. John arched off the cot with a cry and came, spilling his pleasure across his own working fingers and abdomen. Bane kept fucking John with the width of his finger, milking whatever he could from John’s body until John finally waved him away.

Bane sat back on his heels and observed, taking the time while John recovered to memorize every single detail. John was the most beautiful mess Bane had ever seen, and Bane’s gut clenched with desire when he remembered that John looked like this because of him and what they had just done together. John was covered in both of their come, his chest still rising and falling rapidly as his cock softened in the grasp of his own sticky fingers.

“You want to fuck me, don’t you?” John said, voice hushed and worn out.

“Yes,” Bane answered, knowing there was no sense in lying.

John nodded, not necessarily in agreement since they were both spent, but in acknowledgement. Acceptance, maybe. John closed his eyes and caught his breath. Bane watched quietly while his own body calmed. “I’m going to need a cloth or something,” John chuckled as he hesitantly touched his clean fingers to the mess on one cheek.

Bane left to find the cleanest fabric he could find, grabbing an unopened package of dishtowels he had stored in a bottom drawer of his workbench in case he was ever injured and bled everywhere. He left the package on the desktop and brought a towel to John, who accepted it and wiped himself off. John missed a spot under his jaw and he allowed Bane to take the towel back and wipe away the last evidence of their coupling. John’s eyes were half-closed while Bane cleaned him off, relaxed and sated while watching Bane’s face. Touches like these were too intimate by far, but Bane was well past pretending and it seemed like John might be as well.

“Wow I’m tired,” John’s voice was muddled by a yawn.

“Stay,” Bane suggested quietly.

Their eyes met before John looked away. “I shouldn’t.”

Bane wiped his own hands clean, tossed aside the soiled towel to be washed later and slowly redid his pants. “The choice is yours.”

John snorted as he followed Bane’s lead, hiking up his pants and pulling down his shirt and sweater. “Quite a difference from the first time I was here.”

It had been less than two months but John was right. “Things change.”

John yawned again and stretched on the cot as if he belonged there. “I suppose they do.” Bane grabbed both blankets from John’s old mattress and settled them over John, who watched him silently. “I’m only going to rest for a minute,” John told him, though he didn’t push the blankets off. In fact, he rolled onto his side and curled up deeper under the blankets, resting a hand loosely on Bane’s thigh.

Before Bane could think of another thing to say, John was snoring softly in Bane’s bed. Bane was surprised but pleased and stayed in place for a long time simply watching John’s restful expression. For a period of uncounted minutes, Bane was completely at peace. He didn’t think about Talia or the reactor or what the world would be like for him and John outside this moment. Bane only breathed, slow and even, and shyly rested his hand atop John’s hand on his thigh.

Bane planned to move away eventually but he never felt motivated enough. It was over an hour later when John shifted under the blankets and pulled his hand away to rub sleep from his eyes. John checked the watch on his wrist and then sat up quickly. “I didn’t mean to sleep that long.”

“Don’t tell me you were _that_ strained from our time together,” Bane teased.

“It was good, but no,” John smirked, though the smile turned melancholy. “There hasn’t been much time to rest lately.”

Talia’s forces had been more active lately, keeping Gotham’s police occupied. Tomorrow Bane would be storming the stock exchange, moving the final pieces to take away Bruce Wayne’s wealth and force him to hand over control of his company and the reactor to Talia, unaware that she was not Miranda, the Gotham socialite he had been learning to trust.

Things would start moving _very_ quickly, _very_ soon. Too soon, Bane felt. But if he refused to follow through on his part of the plan, Bane knew that Talia would find another pawn and likely put Bane down. Bane knew that Talia had cared for him once, long ago, grateful to her protector and wanting the best she could find for him. But ever since her father died, Talia had not cared for anyone, not even her own long term safety. She didn’t care for Bruce’s tender touch or Bane’s loyalty. The only thing in the world that mattered to her now was her revenge. Talia was willing to die for it and she expected Bane to die for her, a willing tool in her arsenal.

Bane had always been willing because there had been nothing else in his world _except_ Talia. In the Pit there was nothing for Bane to live for except Talia and the fickle sunlight that daily passed him by. Out of the Pit there had been physical recovery and training, building up his strength so that no one could ever hurt him again. But then he was excommunicated and Bane was cut loose, left to drift without purpose or direction until Talia’s fury at her father’s death had seared a goal into Bane’s mind.

Now… Bane watched John shuffle from beneath the covers and stand, tracked the line of skin on John’s lower back that peeked out when he stretched his arms overhead. There was no doubt now that John enjoyed these encounters as well and visited willingly, even if he still told comforting lies to ease the dissonance in his mind. That didn’t mean this was anything more than sexual release for John, or that John would accept Bane into his life in any other capacity. Bane could choose John and still be rejected.

Bane could hope that John would be less willing to shoot him than Talia would be, the young man filled with more than just anger and hatred. But there was no guarantee. Bane had done horrible things and he was about to do more. Where was John’s threshold? Did Bane dare toe that line and risk John not even being willing to look at him again?

Following Talia led to certain death. Choosing John held a risk of rejection or death but there was a chance, however slim, at happiness instead. And if nothing else, Bane thought it would be worth fighting for that chance.

“How is your aim?” Bane asked.

“With my gun?” John clarified. “It’s good.”

“And your hand-to-hand combat skills?” Bane wondered.

John stopped stretching and gave Bane his full attention. “It’s fair,” John answered. “Earlier you told me to bring my gun next time and now you’re asking me this. Bane, what’s coming?”

“Nothing you can stop,” Bane replied truthfully.

John crossed his arms. “And nothing you choose to stop?”

“There is too much momentum now,” Bane reasoned. “I would be dead tomorrow if I tried.” John’s expression was openly confused. Perhaps for the first time John was considering the possibility that Bane wasn’t pulling all of the strings in this nightmare. “Some things will have to happen, by my own hand at times.”

“It sounds as if I won’t like it,” John shifted his weight, keeping a few feet of space between where he stood and where Bane sat on the edge of the cot.

“You will not,” Bane agreed. That was his fear. But if it was the price for John’s safety and a fleeting chance at happiness, Bane might just be willing to pay it.

“Bane…” John sighed, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Maybe you’ve made me think myself more important than I am. But I’m asking you to please change your mind. Gotham is far from perfect but millions call it home, including me.”

“I need time to think,” Bane hedged. John frowned in disappointment but didn’t push the matter. “Before you go I want to make sure you can protect yourself. Do you carry a knife?”

“I have a pocketknife at home.” John watched Bane walk past him and rummage through one of the metal crates stacked against the wall. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yes,” Bane replied. He stepped up to John and held out a hunting knife in his hand in offering. John took it tentatively, sliding the blade from its leather sheath. The handle was wood, which would be less cold in the winter chill, with a blade measuring three inches. It was too small for Bane’s use and Talia had declined it. Bane had meant to put it in the armoury but hadn’t taken the time to do so. “It is for close range, especially if you are grappled.”

John eyed the gleam of light off the stainless steel blade and then slid it back into the leather covering. He set it back on top of the workbench. “Is it likely that I’ll be grappled?” John raised an eyebrow.

“The streets will be more dangerous soon.” Bane shared as much information as he deemed safe. The more John knew, the more danger he would be in. Bane would have to study the remaining moves on Talia’s chessboard to determine what he could divert and shift without putting John or himself at undue risk. “Now hit me as hard as you can with a fist.”

John’s hands balled into fists. “Where?”

“You’ll hurt your hand on my mask so anywhere else,” Bane suggested. John struck out and Bane barely caught John’s wrist before his fist made contact with his trachea. “You’re fast,” Bane praised.

“Thanks,” John smiled smugly. “I thought you were going to let me hit you.”

“I am, if you pick a location that won’t leave a bruise I can’t explain,” Bane said. “Try again.” Bane knew where John was going to aim before he thrust forward with a jab to Bane’s unprotected solar plexus. He didn’t grab John’s wrist this time, taking the hit and analyzing how much force John could deal. John had some power but it was obvious that his strength would be his speed in a genuine fight. Bane said as much while John shook out his hand. “You must also learn to decide where to hit without looking; otherwise you broadcast your intentions to your opponent with your eyes.”

“Easier said than done,” John scoffed. “Punching you also felt like punching a brick wall.”

“It takes time. Years of practice,” Bane conceded. “And yes, you should use your knife whenever possible. It will increase your damage without breaking your knuckles.”

John had finished massaging his hand. “Anything else you’re willing to teach me?” John seemed to understand that if Bane was taking this seriously and providing this advice, it was for a reason.

“Plenty.”

They spent the next hour going over the basics, refreshing what John had learned from the police academy and updating John’s technique anytime Bane felt he could explain it without extensive training. Bane let John practice punches and jabs with his fists, elbows and knees. He also grappled John multiple times to see if John could strike the right spots to get Bane to release him. John had no real chance against Bane at full strength but Bane was no longer his enemy. It was everyone else Bane worried about. He felt like no amount of practice would be enough to keep John safe now that Bane was invested, though John was flushed and exhilarated when they finally stopped to rest.

“I’ll practice,” John assured him, sensing Bane’s tension. “And I’ll carry my gun and the knife.”

It didn’t feel like enough, but Bane couldn’t ask John to stay or watch him every minute of the day. “You’re fast,” Bane reminded him. “If you will lose, run.”

“I will,” John nodded. “I should go before it gets dark.”

John pulled on his coat and tucked his new knife into his pocket. “John…” Bane trailed off, drawing John’s gaze. “Promise me something.”

"What is it?" John asked with a furrowed brow.

"I do not think you will want to see me again," Bane admitted. "Promise you will come anyway; once more so that I can try to explain."

John ran his fingers through his hair. "This would be a lot less difficult and confusing if you just told me what's going to happen."

"I know," Bane said. "But I will not risk your safety anymore than I already have."

"I am a cop, you know," John rolled his eyes.

"That merely increases your risk," Bane explained.

"You win, for now," John relented, though Bane could tell John did not intend to let the topic go. John moved into Bane's personal space, close enough that Bane could reach out and embrace him. Bane resisted the urge. "I promise that no matter what, I will come back in two weeks if only to punch you in the throat."

Bane leaned in closer until only the mask was between them. Bane was satisfied when John didn't lean away. "If you come back, I will let you."


	5. Chapter 5

Bane drove the motorcycle out of the stock exchange building, hostage clutched in front of him as a human shield to deter any police from shooting rashly. Across the plaza Bane saw John, looking right at him with his gun aimed true. In a blink John was shifting his attention to the other bikers, looking for an opening to shoot without hitting a hostage. John couldn't know which motorcycle driver was Bane while they wore biker helmets with tinted visors, but John had to know that Bane was one of the four.

Bane had no doubt that if John had found his shot, he would've taken it. And as Bane raced away in the crowd, dropping the hostage when he was a safe distance from the police blockade, he wished silently that things could have been different.

#

They had been making this plan, preparing every possible contingency, for years. Bane knew every single detail; the positioning, timing and action for each chess piece on the board. Any time Bane was alone after John left, Bane mentally studied and challenged the plan, trying to determine the perfect moment to intervene. Eliminating Talia was not a task Bane looked forward to, but it would be physically easy to complete.

The difficulty was ending this plan in a way that wouldn't turn their army of angry, violent individuals on him or worse, Gotham. Most of them had been drawn to the cause because they had been hurt by the world and they wanted to spread the pain as widely as possible. They had been promised power and the freedom to enact their vengeance however they chose once the occupation began. Even if Talia, the true figurehead, was removed by Bane, the army would not simply change their ways and go home if Bane suddenly called off the plan. They would riot at having their justice stolen from them and kill anyone who got in their way.

Bane had to find a way to make the plan look like it was progressing without a hitch, both to maintain Talia's trust and to appease the army's animalistic needs. But beneath the surface Bane needed to set a new plan in motion that would unravel Talia's game before she reached checkmate. A plan that would lead Talia and her army to a slow, controlled defeat so that John and his city could kill only those necessary and save as many as possible.

Now that Bruce had signed over control of his company and the fusion reactor to Talia, they expected him to soon debut his return as Batman by seeking Bane out in the sewers. The plan was for Bane to break Bruce's body and then send him to the Pit where Bruce's soul would be tortured watching his city burn to ashes. In every possible devised strategy, Bane realized that he needed Bruce to not suffer mortal wounds and remain physically nearby rather than halfway across the world underground. Bane needed Bruce because Gotham needed Batman.

There were two problems Bane had to overcome. First, it was likely that Bruce would try to murder him as soon as they were face to face. And second, Bane knew there would be witnesses to their fight and he could not tell Bruce his true intentions or let the Batman go without word getting back to Talia.

With this in mind, Bane made his way to the top corridor of sewers, stories above the alcove he called his temporary headquarters. Charges had been placed in the ceiling for small, controlled explosions to break a hole large enough to access Wayne's armoury located above. Barsad was checking to ensure everything was done correctly and ready for when Bruce inevitably found Bane down here for a confrontation.

Barsad raised a hand to acknowledge Bane's arrival and turned back to finish his final check. When Barsad was done, he approached Bane and followed his lead away from the workers' earshot. Barsad didn't ask questions, merely observed and waited. Bane knew Barsad saw and heard more than most people even realized and he was a valuable ally.

"We spoke before," Bane was meticulous with the words he chose, aware of the knife's edge he was beginning to walk. Barsad tilted his head in recognition. "Do you feel the same about the tides?"

Barsad raised his eyebrows slightly but did not mock or interrogate the direction Bane was taking this. "I do."

"Then I have work for you," Bane said, and guided him away where they could discuss details.

#

The plane was an hour out from their destination when Bruce came to consciousness. Bane sat in the chair across from where Bruce had been bound and left to sleep during the flight, waiting for the man to regain enough awareness to hold a proper conversation. Barsad was out of sight behind Bruce’s seat, overseeing in case anything went askew. Not that Bane expected much fight from the Batman now. Bane hadn’t caused as much damage as Talia had expected, but he had still injured Bruce badly enough during their fight that it would take him weeks of rest and careful exercise to recover.

Regardless, once Bruce woke up and realized who sat across from him, he immediately tensed and tried to break free of his bonds only to cry out with pain when he twisted his back. Bane watched silently, knowing Bruce was smart enough to not cause further injury to himself by fighting fruitlessly. “A herniated disc will recover,” Bane said when Bruce settled.

“What do you want?” Bruce demanded, voice rough from disuse and pain.

“A deal,” Bane answered, causing Bruce to scoff and look out the small window of the plane.

“What deal could we possibly agree on?”

“Saving Gotham from destruction,” Bane posed.

Bruce turned back with clear interest, though his body remained tense. “I’m not a fool; I won’t let you feed me hope and then take it away. Destroying Gotham has been your goal all along.”

“Before, yes.”

“Before _what?_ ” Bruce raised a questioning eyebrow.

The memory came back in a flash: John peacefully asleep in Bane’s bed, hand resting on Bane’s thigh. “Before I found something else to fight for.”

Bruce pursed his lips, reading Bane as thoroughly as Bane read Bruce in return. “If what you say is true, you don’t need me. This is _your_ war; it ends when you choose to end it.”

“That is where your intelligence fails you,” Bane countered. “This is not my war; I have merely enacted the will of another.”

“Bullshit,” Bruce accused. “You’ve been behind all this from the start.”

Bruce flinched when Bane reached into the inner pocket of his jacket but relaxed slightly when he saw it was only to retrieve a phone. Bane wasn’t nervous as he unlocked the phone and opened an audio file; he was certain of the path he had chosen. That didn’t make it any less discomforting remembering how he had discreetly recorded the woman he was supposed to protect with his life for the sole purpose of speeding up her demise.

Bane turned up the volume and pressed ‘play’.

“Bane, I want you to take Bruce to the Pit personally. No other will do. I want you to tell him of the suffering he will watch over the next half year while he lies broken in hell. Pay the prisoners whatever is necessary so they will keep him alive. Once Gotham is ash, I will go back with you and kill him myself.”

She continued talking but Bane stopped the recording. Bruce was staring at the phone in his hand, face contorted with confusion. “Miranda…?”

“Talia,” Bane corrected. “Talia al Ghul.”

The name struck Bruce, as Bane knew it would. “You lie.”

“Rarely, and certainly not now,” Bane informed him. “You killed her father. She waited and planned for many long years and has come for her revenge.”

“Play the recording again,” Bruce insisted. Bane obliged. After he paused the recording a second time, Bruce asked, “So you’re what, a hired goon?”

Bane didn’t want to get into all the details of his past but he knew he would need to share some information to earn enough of Bruce’s trust to forge a deal. “No, I have protected her since childhood.”

“And now decades later you expect me to believe that loyalty has shrivelled up?” Bruce sneered. "I'm not as stupid as you think."

"You would be no use to me if you were stupid," Bane said.

Bruce scowled. "You have given me nothing to earn my trust. Tell me what changed your motivation and I will consider your offer. That is my price."

It was risky, but everything Bane had done since leaving Talia's path was a risk. It was within Bane's nature to hide any vulnerability but if showing his hand now would keep John safe in the long run, it would be worth it. "His name is John," Bane murmured softly, as if saying the name too loudly would shatter everything.

To Bane's surprise, Bruce relaxed slightly. Relationships and affection were foreign to Bane whereas Bruce had experienced love, loss, and everything in between. It would be enough of a commonality to get Bruce on his side. What Bane wasn't expecting was Bruce's question, "Does he love you back?"

Bane's eyes narrowed. "I said nothing of love."

"You didn't have to."

Bane considered Bruce's expression and body language. He was still wary, and in pain, but there was a hesitant curiosity now. Bruce looked at Bane as something potentially more than an enemy and a monster. "No," Bane admitted, certain of his answer. "But he deserves a chance at a happy future." He was willing to fight for John even when Bane knew his wish to be part of that future was very unlikely to come true.

"Fine," Bruce said after a few minutes of silence. "I will work with you, but only to save Gotham and its citizens. What is your plan?"

"When this plane lands I will pretend to lock you away in prison and then fly back to Gotham for my next task. You, on the other hand..." For the first time Bane glanced over Bruce's chair at Barsad who stood behind him. Bruce tried to turn in his seat to glance backwards but cried out again when his back twisted. "You will take a separate flight back to Gotham with Barsad and you will be taken somewhere to recover from our fight. No one can know you are in Gotham until you are ready to end this war."

"And what will you be doing while I'm locked away recovering from the injury _you_ gave me?" Bruce wondered snidely.

Bane would not be made to feel guilty for what he had done; Bruce was the one who had sought him out with the intent of killing Bane. Bruce was just lucky that Bane had orders to avoid killing him, and that Bane's motivations had changed enough that Bruce's injuries were significantly less dire. "I will play my part to avoid suspicion."

"You'll kill more innocent people – or _let_ them be killed," Bruce accused. He may have agreed to Bane's deal but they would never agree on what was necessary.

"Both," Bane agreed. "So I suggest you focus on healing and rebuilding your strength."

Bruce's wrists flexed against their bindings. "You're a monster. Why won't you just end this war yourself? Miranda... _Talia_ could be stopped if she trusts you."

"Many in our army will not willingly stop. At the right time, the police must subdue them. And they will need a symbol of hope to rise up," Bane explained. "I could stop Talia but then what? The people need a narrative. If I simply disappear, no one will trust their victory and Gotham will tear itself apart in the end anyway."

Bruce frowned. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Bane inclined his head. "Once I know John is safe, you may kill me if it is necessary."

They couldn't shake hands but Bruce exhaled and nodded. "I accept your deal."

#

The city of Gotham trembled as explosions erupted through the tunnels and tore apart the bridges.

Although Bane did not believe in any gods, he prayed that John was not among the dust and rubble.

The bomb was primed and Bane broke the neck of Dr. Pavel, the only man who could disarm it, committing to Talia's five month timeline for Gotham to anguish before its end.

Bane prayed that nothing would stop Bruce or himself from ending Talia and removing or destroying the bomb before the timer ran out, vaporizing the city.

Blackgate Prison delinquents were released and armed, joining Gotham's own citizens in the looting and rioting throughout the streets.

Bane prayed that John remembered the training Bane had provided, and that John practiced self-protection the way he had promised down in the sewers.

Gotham's police were trapped underground, given only enough to survive but not enough to hope or rebel.

Bane prayed that even if John never understood, and Bane never got to see him again, John would survive.

#

Talia's army had joined the looting and before long the sewers were almost completely abandoned except for those who were stationed to oversee and organize Bruce's stolen armoury. Bane could have found a new location to set up his headquarters, away from the winter's chill turned biting with the dampness in the air from the waterfall. However, Bane remained in his little corner of the sewers filled with far more precious memories than he ever expected to claim as his own, and daily walked the route to the familiar tunnel entrance. Bane knew that John would not know where to look – and may not care enough to try – if Bane relocated.

Two weeks passed and John did not arrive. Bane told himself that John would be busy staying safe and protecting as many other people as possible during the worst of the riots.

Three weeks passed since they had last been together and John did not arrive. Under the ruse of quelling any potential revolt, Bane examined each group of cops trapped beneath the streets of Gotham for a familiar face to no avail.

Four weeks passed since John had promised to come back and Bane spent his nights reliving every detail he could remember of their time together. He was forced to accept that John wasn't coming back; that Bane would not get to see, touch, or talk to John one last time before all this came to a close. Bruce was healing well, regaining pain-free movement and rebuilding his strength. The bomb had approximately four months until it exploded but it, Talia, and Bane, would all meet their end far sooner than that.

Bane considered respecting John's silent decision to not return. However, Bane was not a selfless man and every day that passed poisoned him with more worry that John was dead as a result of Bane's actions. After a few days of deliberation, Bane used one of their stashed laptops to hack into Gotham Police Department's staffing records to look up John's home address. Bane knew that if John had relocated these records wouldn't show that; the remaining police aboveground were hunted for sport and would not put each other at risk by updating electronic records. It did give Bane a place to start though, listing an apartment in the east end of the city.

Bane just had to know that John was still alive. Once that was confirmed, Bane could work on accepting that what he had shared with John was little more than a brief flit of fancy.

It was early evening when Bane left the sewers, using the lengthening shadows of the city to hide the majority of his movements. Although few would risk attacking Bane between his strength and the mysterious triggerman somewhere in Gotham, Bane still preferred to keep a low profile while on a private mission. He wouldn't know how to explain himself to Talia if someone reported this back to her and she cared enough to question his motives.

The streets were nearly barren, the alleys even more so. The rioting revellers had grown weary of their freedoms and settled where shelter and food were plentiful. Everyone else clung to whatever remained of their lives before the occupation, without hope for anything more than a swift, painless end to their collective imprisonment. Bane walked unchallenged through the city he had helped cripple, reaching John's supposed apartment building just as the sun dipped below the tallest buildings.

The building’s lobby was rundown, the tiled flooring scuffed and a lopsided _Out of Order_ sign taped onto one of the two elevator doors. In front of the functional elevator was a woman with blond hair fading to an early gray, two young boys clinging to each side of her coat. The woman stiffened when Bane entered the cramped room and pushed the boys behind her. “ _Please_ ,” she whispered. “We don’t want trouble.”

Bane had no quarrel with her but the woman didn’t know that. The two boys huddled behind her but peeked curiously around the woman’s elbows at Bane, young enough to lack a full appreciation of life and death. Without a word, Bane walked past them and started up the apartment’s stairwell. Before the door closed behind him he heard a single, strangled sob escape the woman when she realized she and her boys had been spared.

The stairwell was even dirtier than the lobby, and the carpet was old and worn when Bane exited on the fourth floor. Bane knew that John had only been promoted shortly before the occupation but he had expected the cop to live in a nicer building and part of town than this. Around a corner and down another hall, Bane found the apartment unit he had been looking for. He knocked, slow and firm, and wondered if this had all been in vain. No one answered and Bane knocked again, a sharp rap this time. Finally Bane heard shuffling feet approach and he found himself relieved, not knowing how long he would’ve kept knocking to avoid accepting the possibility that John wasn’t here.

All of Bane’s worries had been for nothing because when the door opened a sliver, there was John’s strong jaw and sharp eyes, looking him over. Bane didn’t wait to be invited in, shouldering his way through the doorframe and into the apartment. John attempted to step away but his ankle failed him and he started to fall. Luckily Bane’s attention was so fixed on John that he noticed in time and immediately scooped John up into his arms before he hit the floor. It was only then that Bane realized John was dressed in loose sweatpants and a thick, heavy sweater.

“What the—? Bane, put me down!” John snarled, struggling in Bane’s grasp but to no avail.

Bane held John tighter in his arms, locked the door behind them with one hand, and then carried John further into the apartment. He would’ve liked to take some time exploring the few personal items scattered around but John was vehement in his escape attempt. Bane walked them down a short hallway, finding a bathroom behind one door and a bedroom behind another. Avoiding dropping John or twisting his body, Bane carefully settled John onto the mattress.

As fast as Bane could blink, John lunged up the length of the bed for his gun on the bedside table. John aimed it at Bane’s head, grip steady even though he was panting. Bane realized he was breathing heavily as well, half from keeping John in his grasp despite his squirming and half with Bane’s desire to pin John to the mattress. That second sentiment was soured when John spoke. “You will _not_ force me again.”

“ _Force_ you?” Bane barked, ignoring the heavy ache in his chest. “Is that what you call it when you come in my bed with my name on your lips?”

John blushed but his aim didn’t waver. “I did what I needed to survive.”

Bane scowled, frustration and pain welling up inside his chest, begging for release. Bane wouldn’t take his anger out on John though. He would not hurt John again even if it meant his own downfall which, judging by the gun, was fast approaching. “Is that why you broke your promise and did not return?” he forced himself to ask.

“You think I gave a shit about keeping my promise after what you’ve done to my city?” John exclaimed.

The rejection hurt even more than Bane expected it to. Bane knew that even if he tried to explain things, even if John let him, nothing would be enough to repair what had been broken. Bane reminded himself that everything he had been doing was to keep John safe and alive; there had never been any guarantee that John would accept Bane into his life. Bane had been a fool to even let himself hope that there was a _chance_ of a happy ending for him, but it still felt like John's gun had already lodged a bullet in his struggling heart.

Unable to bear another minute of John’s hatred, Bane turned on his heel and headed for the door. “I will leave then.”

John made a confused noise and called out, “Wait!”

Bane was already halfway down the hall and had no interest in lingering or getting shot. Bane was intent on leaving without even a final backwards glance but he froze when he heard John grunt in pain and collapse to the hallway floor in his wake. He spun around to see John on the ground, face contorted with pain and the gun abandoned so that John’s hands could squeeze his ankle. Bane retraced his steps and knelt beside John who looked up at him through tear-brimmed eyes.

For a second time Bane took John in his arms, though he was gentler this time and John didn’t fight back. Bane left the gun where it had fallen in the hallway and returned John to his bed. Bane sat poised near the baseboard to show that he had no intention of crowding into John’s personal space or _forcing_ himself on John. Bane swallowed.

He touched a hand to the top of John’s socked foot and when John didn’t withdraw, Bane pulled John’s foot into his lap. Bane peeled away the sock cautiously and rolled up the fabric of John’s pant leg. The caress of Bane’s fingertips along the warm skin and hair of John’s lower leg felt incredibly intimate and still John didn’t shove him away. With the fabric out of the way, Bane could see that John’s ankle was swollen and badly bruised. “What happened?”

“I was trying to break my partner out from where he was trapped in one of the underground tunnels,” John explained.

“Partner?” Bane echoed.

John levelled him with an unimpressed stare. “My _policing_ partner,” he clarified. “He and my entire squad got trapped in the tunnels next to the bay. I was trying to sneak them out through one of the less-guarded manholes but I was found out.”

“Can you move your foot and toes?” Bane interrupted.

John winced but demonstrated his ability to wiggle his toes and stiffly flex and extend his foot. “Anyway, one of _your_ men stomped on my ankle and threw me away from the manhole like a pile of trash. I still don’t know why he didn’t shoot me. Maybe he liked watching me limp away, defeated.”

Bane skimmed his fingers over the worst of the swelling. He didn’t think anything was broken but the tendons and ligaments were badly sprained. “You shouldn’t be bearing weight on this.”

“No shit. I bind it when I go out,” John huffed. “Are you even listening to me?”

Bane stayed silent, staring at his thumb drawing circles on John’s bare skin. His choices and his actions had inadvertently put John’s life at risk so many times. John could have been caught in one of the detonations or the rubble. He could have been shot in the back for trying to save his fellow officers, hunted down as a cop, or attacked in one of the riots by Blackgate prisoners or disillusioned citizens.

“I understand why you did not come back,” Bane murmured.

“I did actually.” Bane risked looking over. John was watching Bane’s thumb caress his skin. “Come back, I mean. I walked down the alley but you weren’t there and I didn’t recognize the guards so I kept walking. I came the next day too, but the guards threatened to shoot me if I made a habit of walking that alley.” John’s eyes flickered up to Bane’s face. “I figured you had changed your mind and I told myself it was for the best.”

“Do you still believe that?” Bane wondered.

“No,” John’s lips quirked up. “I think punching you in the throat would be great for my anger management.” Despite himself and the verbal threat, a laugh escaped Bane. John’s eyes widened at the noise and chuckled as well. “I’m not joking!”

“Then hit me,” Bane offered. Seated sideways on the bed, Bane wasn’t the easiest target, but he held his arms wide to show he wouldn’t block a hit. John curled one hand into a fist and punched Bane’s upper arm with as much force as he could manage with their awkward positioning. John hesitated afterwards, waiting for retaliation that wouldn’t come, and then punched Bane on the cheek where his mask left his face exposed. Bane felt the ache of the second hit vibrating through his facial bones but he didn’t lean away. “You can hit me again.”

John shook out his hand. “I don’t want to. I’ve had enough violence to last a lifetime.”

“Yet you have volunteered to face so much of it,” Bane mused. They were both silent for a few minutes. “Amelia wasn’t your girlfriend; you barely knew her. So why did you come down to the sewers that first time to trade yourself for her?”

“She had a family, Bane. People that would miss her,” John replied simply, as if the value of different lives was rudimentary. “Nobody would have missed me. It seemed like a valuable trade.”

“What about the person after that?” Bane asked.

“Forfeiting some of my dignity by giving you a blowjob also seemed like a worthwhile trade to save someone’s life,” John shrugged. He was watching Bane warily, perhaps wondering where Bane was going with this line of questioning.

Bane hesitated, wondering if he dared voice his next question. “And when there were no more prisoners to save, were you really just doing what you needed to survive?”

“I shouldn’t have said that. At least, not about our last time.” John exhaled heavily, as if Bane’s words held physical weight. “Don’t make me say it when you yourself won’t.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Bane hedged.

“Of course you do,” John scoffed. “I see the way you look at me, and I certainly feel the way you hold me. But until you decide what you are willing to do about it, none of that matters. You said it yourself: five months until the bomb goes off. There are only four months left and trying to leave the city over the bridge will get you shot.”

Bane’s hand slid further up John’s leg to massage his calf. “If I undressed you right now, would you let me?”

“Probably,” John said, though he sounded weary rather than aroused.

“Why?”

“Because I like the way you look at me, like I matter,” John admitted. “Since my mom died I’ve never mattered to anyone. I like feeling special, and knowing there is a chance that you may change your mind and save Gotham just because of me.” There was a question in John’s gaze, one he wouldn’t voice aloud.

“I am working to save Gotham for you,” Bane promised. “But it will take more time.”

John released the breath he had been holding in a rush. “You’re not just saying that to get between my legs, are you?”

“I would like to be between your legs, but no,” Bane said. “It is for the reasons you said.”

John blushed again, though his expression was serious and focused. “Then help me understand how trapping the entire city in the blast radius of a bomb will achieve that.”

“There is… another person in charge,” Bane informed John, careful of every word he shared. “I am avoiding suspicion until all of their plans can be overthrown in one decisive, coordinated attack.”

“Maybe I can help,” John suggested slowly, equally careful with the details he offered. “Some Wayne Enterprise members are coming up with a way to get the bomb back to the original reactor so it can be stabilized. If we work together that might increase our chances of success. Bane?” John reached out and touched his arm after a moment. “What’s wrong?”

Bane knew that Lucius Fox was working with Commissioner Gordon to track the three armoured trucks driving around Gotham and determine a way to get the core back to the reactor. Of course he knew, because Talia was maintaining her role as Miranda Tate and had woven herself seamlessly into the resistance’s plans. They wouldn’t know not to trust her until their plans had already crumbled around them. 

What Bane _hadn’t_ known was that John and Talia had crossed paths and started to work together so closely. Bane was accustomed to fear but right now it was choking him, clutching his heart in a vice grip and refusing to let him breathe. If Talia was familiar enough with John to let him participate in her farce, she knew enough to know where John lived and frequented. It would be easy for her to have him killed, or shoot him herself, if John demonstrated too much of a threat to her plans.

“You cannot breathe a whisper of me or our connection to them,” Bane said hoarsely, his heartbeat drumming in his ears. There was ice in Bane’s veins, fed by a looping mental image of John bleeding out in an alley.

John frowned in confusion for a long moment and then horror dawned. “One of them is on your side, aren’t they?” Bane’s expression must have confirmed John’s fears because he covered his face with his hands and groaned. “I thought there was hope but it’s all fake.”

“There is hope,” Bane refuted firmly.

“I don’t see how,” John lamented. “We have a mole in our resistance, Batman is gone, we have four months left to live and I don’t know anything about your plans.”

“I defied orders. The Batman will return,” Bane told him. John lifted his head and listened intently. “I am biding my time until he is healed and ready. Gotham doesn’t need its villains to simply vanish; its people need to be reunited by the defeat of a common enemy.”

“You,” John stated.

Bane nodded. “Gotham does not know its true enemy so I will deal with them while the Batman inspires hope with his return. The bomb will be neutralized, as will the prisoners and rioters once Gotham’s police are released.”

John sighed. “It all seems so complicated.”

Bane turned slightly and cupped the side of John’s face with his hand. John was warm and beautiful as he leaned into the touch. “It was more straightforward before I met you.”

John took Bane’s hand between both of his own and kissed his callused palm. Bane’s body ached with desire, sorely tempted to remove his mask and claim John’s lips. Bane resisted, barely. “Is there a plan for what happens after?”

“You and your city get a second lease on life,” Bane answered. His voice was hushed, attention fixated on John’s lips kissing the heel of his palm and then the inside of his wrist.

John looked up at Bane through his lashes. “What about _us_?”

“I didn’t think you would want there to be an ‘ _us’_ ,” Bane confessed. “It was not factored into my plans.”

“Well factor it back in,” John said shyly. “I think we should give it a try, don’t you?”

Bane looked away, pained that he would need to refuse the exact fantasy he had grown to desire. “Gotham would not accept it if I simply disappeared one day.”

John let go of Bane’s hand. “ _No_. You are not dying just to save me. That wasn’t part of this arrangement.”

“There was no arrangement after your planned return to the sewers to punch me in the throat,” Bane tried to joke to reduce the tension in the air. John didn’t laugh. “John—”

“No,” John cut him off. “You can’t just shoulder your way into my… my _life_ and then sacrifice yourself for me. We need a new plan.”

As if it was that easy. “We will try. But earlier you said that nothing mattered, not even this, until I decided what I was willing to do about it,” Bane said. “I decided a while ago what I was willing to do. I am doing it for you. I thought you would want it, or at least accept it, for the sake of your city.”

John’s expression was conflicted as he ran his fingers through his hair and then gripped it, pulling harshly on the strands at the back. Bane hadn’t realized that John’s hair was longer now; long enough to hold. Had he intentionally let it grow out after Bane’s comment all that time ago? Had he done it to please Bane?

“How much time do we have left?” John’s voice broke Bane from his reverie.

Bane mentally calculated Bruce’s recovery based on the updates Barsad gave him. “Less than a month,” he surmised.

John cursed under his breath. “Will you stay here?”

“They would notice my absence.” Bane could tell John was getting frustrated so he pulled John gently into his lap and met his gaze. “I will stay tonight, and we will consider our options. Deal?”

John pressed a soft kiss to Bane’s temple, his lips lingering afterward. “Deal.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter being posted one night early since I will be away from my computer for the weekend. Enjoy!

They ended up on John’s couch watching a movie, which was something Bane never thought he would experience. Leisure and entertainment had played no part in his life in prison or after being released. Everything had been about training, preparing, and revenge. It was hard for Bane to relax until John leaned the majority of his weight against him. Bane settled after that, though his attention was frequently on John instead of the movie.

It seemed that John was similarly distracted judging by the way his fingertips continuously traced designs on Bane’s thigh. Partway through the movie John gave up entirely and started to talk over the music and dialogue. He told Bane a few stories about his childhood growing up between foster homes and the orphanage, and his desire to become a cop to make the streets a safer place for other displaced youth.

John’s honesty gave Bane the courage to share some stories of his own, though he spoke of his enjoyment of training rather than the abuses he had suffered in prison. John listened closely, asking a few follow up questions but mostly just accepting what Bane was willing to tell him. They talked so long that the movie ended and John quickly started another one to avoid disrupting the rhythm of their conversation.

Even when Bane had allowed himself to fantasize about a future with John after the occupation, he had never been able to visualize a comfortable dialogue like this. Bane was a monster in the eyes of most and it was hard to believe that despite everything Bane had done, John was still able and willing to talk to him as one human being to another. It wasn’t just about physical pleasure anymore, although the tension between them was palpable with how closely their bodies were pressed together. It made Bane grateful that even if his life was drawing to a close, he had gotten to experience John in it.

Halfway through the second movie their conversation abruptly ceased when the entire apartment went dark. John cursed. “What happened?” Bane asked, immediately on guard for an attack. The sun had set hours ago and with every light off in the apartment, and every streetlight extinguished, they were surrounded by pitch darkness.

“This happens sometimes,” John explained, reassuring Bane somewhat. “The power was spotty in this neighbourhood already and the occupation has made it worse. It could be out for a while.”

“What about the heat?” Bane wondered. He was rarely affected by the cold but he had noticed the interior of the apartment wasn’t warm even before the power shut off. John was a small man and already bundled up in a thick sweater. There wasn’t much snow on the ground outside but the air was biting cold, especially at night.

Bane felt John shrug against his side. “Layers, blankets,” he answered. “Though I suppose tonight you can keep me warm.”

Bane tentatively wrapped an arm around John’s waist. “Is that an invitation?”

“I hope so,” John breathed. Bane couldn’t see John’s smile but he could hear it in the other man’s words. Bane wasn’t going to second guess the offer and quickly stood from the couch, pulling John into his arms a moment later. “I can walk in my own apartment, you know,” John complained lightly.

The memory of John’s bruised and swollen skin was still fresh in Bane’s mind. “You shouldn’t,” he countered as he carried John down the hall back towards the bedroom. The apartment was relatively unfamiliar to him but Bane was comfortable in the dark and brought them to John’s bed without issue.

“There’s a battery-powered lantern on the top shelf of my closet,” John told him as Bane set him on the mattress.

Bane spent a minute retrieving the gun previously left in the hallway so they wouldn’t trip on it later. Then he found the small metal lantern at the top of the closet in the corner of the bedroom. Although he was slightly apprehensive, Bane handed both the gun and the lantern to John. In the darkness Bane heard the gun being set aside without further comment and then the lantern clicked on. The light was glary and deepened the shadows in the room, but it also allowed Bane to see what John had grabbed from his bedside drawer and was now holding in his hands.

Lube.

Bane sat on the edge of the mattress near John’s hip, his boots removed hours ago. They both looked at each other and then down at the container of lube. “Are you sure?” Bane questioned, his heart already beginning to race.

John nodded, his blush visible but washed out by the lantern light. “I’ve been thinking about it. Do you…? I mean, have you ever—?”

“No, you are my first,” Bane replied plainly, telling himself not to be embarrassed. “I know the basics but you can tell me what you prefer.”

“You’re quite... large,” John chuckled nervously. “You’ll need to use a lot of lube, and use your fingers first.”

Bane took the lube from John’s hand and set it temporarily out of the way. Then he placed a hand on John’s shoulder and led him onto his back in the middle of the mattress. “I won't hurt you,” he promised, wishing not for the first time that his mask wasn’t in the way of what he wanted to do to John with his mouth.

“I trust you,” John said as Bane moved more fully onto the bed.

With those words, Bane felt he had permission to explore John’s body with his hands. They had remained mostly clothed during their encounters in the sewers, partially because of the dampness in the air and also because back then they had both been pretending this wasn’t anything more than sex. They were beyond that now, and the apartment was still warm enough that they could expose skin comfortably as long as they were also sharing body heat.

Bane spent a few greedy minutes massaging and groping John, feeling the muscles in his arms and legs before cupping John between his legs. John exhaled and lifted his hips into the touch, beginning to harden beneath the soft fabric of his loose sweatpants. Realizing that this was the first time they would be together without pretence and with some genuine privacy, Bane forced himself not to rush things and instead moved his hands elsewhere. John looked down at him but didn’t object when Bane’s hands slid under John’s sweater and undershirt, teasing soft, warm skin. Bane wanted to kiss and taste every inch of John’s skin but he couldn’t, fearful of how John would react to his uncovered face, so he would do with his fingers what he could not with his mouth.

Bane was elated and addicted to John shivering and leaning into his touch, accepting him and seeking more. Even without touching John directly, Bane saw that John’s pants were tented by his erection, confirming his enjoyment of Bane’s caresses. Bane curled his fingers around John through his pants, using the underwear and pants fabric to add friction to his strokes.

John gasped and arched up, fisting the bed sheets beneath him. “Good,” he shuddered. “That’s good.” Pleased, Bane continued for another minute until he felt the fabric getting wet with precome. He grasped the waistband of John’s pants to tug them down but John batted away his hands with a teasing smirk. “You’re overdressed.”

Bane had never undressed faster in his life. He undid his belt and removed his body armour first, letting it fall in a heavy heap on the floor. Bane knew he didn’t want to be interrupted again so after that he pulled his shirt over his head and undid the clasp of his pants, leaving them loose on his hips to be easily removed later. “Acceptable?”

“Much better,” John agreed. “Now get back here.”

Bane liked having John beneath him but he was also enjoying how verbally bold John was being. He returned to the bed and stripped John down to his underwear. Bane pressed his palm against the wet patch at the front of John’s underwear, massaging the swollen length trapped there. This time when Bane clasped John’s waistband, John merely lifted his hips and let Bane remove the last of his clothing. John lay sprawled on his bed, naked and with his cock lying heavy against the crease of his hip.

Bane was achingly hard in his own pants at the sight but refused to touch himself. He knew the biggest challenge would be lasting once he was inside John’s body. Bane grabbed the discarded lube container and opened the cap. “Are you sure?” he hesitated.

John nodded. “I’m sure. Just do one finger at a time.”

Following instructions, Bane coated one finger with lube and settled between John’s spread legs. He teased John’s entrance for a few seconds, spreading lube, and then he pushed in. John took the width of his index finger well, exhaling loudly but otherwise stretching around the intrusion without any hint of pain on his face. Bane thrust his finger in and out slowly, twisting it to massage John’s insides with the pad of his finger. He continued until John told him he was ready for more, allowing John to lead the pace of this to avoid any risk of injury. Bane withdrew to get more lube and then pressed both fingers against John’s hole together. There was resistance this time but Bane didn’t force it, waiting until John’s body relaxed enough for both of Bane’s fingers to sink into him.

The sight of John’s hole stretched around two of his fingers was entrancing, even with the shadows caused by their sole light source. Bane pumped his fingers in and out with a similar rhythm, feeling it when he spilled precome in his own underwear at the wet sounds his fingers and John’s body were starting to make. Bane reached up to stroke John’s cock but John grabbed his wrist to stop him. “I won’t last,” John warned breathlessly.

Bane nodded his understanding and returned to his task. He spread his two fingers inside John’s body, encouraging the muscles of John’s ass to relax further. It was a few minutes later when John asked for a third. There was a puddle of precome on John’s belly and the front of Bane’s pants were damp; lasting was going to be a challenge for both of them.

Bane retrieved the lube again, this time coating his index, middle and ring fingers. Even looking at the width of them made Bane equally excited and nervous, worried about hurting John but eager to replace his fingers with his cock. Bane placed all three slicked fingertips against John’s hole, pushing in slow and steady. John breathed deeply in-out, in-out, and then inhaled sharply when all three of Bane’s knuckles slipped in at once.

“Are you alright?” Bane froze, reading John’s face for pain.

There was no pain, only blissful surprise. “Oh my god,” John whispered. “Fuck, I’m so close to coming.”

“I can—”

“No, I want to finish with you inside me,” John said quickly. He squeezed his eyes closed and Bane felt John’s body spasm around him. “Fuck,” John cursed again. Bane didn’t move an inch. He could tell that it wouldn’t take more than a few thrusts of his fingers or a touch of his hand around John’s cock to bring on his climax. Bane wanted it badly but he also wanted to feel John’s body squeeze around him when he came. He resisted the urge to nudge John over the edge and remained in place, feeling the way John’s body slowly adjusted to the width of his three fingers.

“Bane, I’m ready, but I won’t last long,” John told him. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Bane reassured him as he carefully withdrew his fingers. “I won’t either.”

“Okay,” John smiled with relief. “That’s fine.” While Bane removed his pants and underwear, John grabbed one of the pillows from the top of the bed and slid it under his hips. They were both watching each other with greedy eyes as Bane stroked lube over his own length and brushed the head of his cock against John’s slick hole. “Please,” John begged.

With that final word of encouragement, Bane pushed forward enough for the crown of his cock to pop past the ring of muscles of John’s entrance. They both groaned at the sensation, Bane shuddering as he fought the rising heat in his balls. Bane leaned forward and planted his hands on either side of John, using gravity to sink into John’s body slowly. John lay pliant on the mattress, accepting each consuming inch of Bane’s length. His eyes were closed, his lips parted in a silent cry of pleasure. Bane was certain he had never seen anything more beautiful.

When Bane was fully sheathed in John’s tight heat, he had to pause and catch his breath. It was John who prompted the beginning of the end for them, angling his hips to thrust down on Bane’s cock. Bane’s restraint snapped. He pulled his hips back and thrust back in, grinding his balls against John’s ass before repeating the movement. John cursed openly, body bouncing with the force of Bane’s thrusts. Bane fucked him deeper, massaging John’s insides with smooth, claiming movements.

One particular thrust seemed to hit a sensitive spot and John cried out sharply. Bane watched and felt John’s body spasm rhythmically as John came across his own belly, completely untouched. The sight was too much for Bane to resist, paired with the way John was bucking and squirming on his cock. With a low moan, Bane shoved himself back into John’s body and came. He could feel the wetness of his come filling John’s hole as he thrust through it, Bane’s whole body trembling through its release. When Bane withdrew he saw a small trickle of come escaping and he used his softening cock to force it back in, burying his seed as deep in John’s body as he could manage.

Finally Bane had to stop, both of them hissing with sensitivity and overstimulation. John was a complete mess, come between his legs and across his stomach. He didn’t seem to mind though, reaching out to pull Bane down to lie on the mattress beside him. John was still breathing hard as his body recovered, Bane only slightly calmer. Bane caressed John’s bare skin lazily, enjoying the way John shivered and curled up closer against his side.

“Will you stay the night?” John asked after being interrupted by a yawn.

Bane pressed his forehead against John’s temple, as close to a kiss as he could manage. “Yes.”

“Don’t leave without saying goodbye,” John demanded sleepily.

“I won't,” Bane promised.

Bane expected John to demand a shower or at least a cloth but he seemed worn out, content to rest as he was. Bane turned off the lantern and shifted John just enough to free the blankets beneath them and pull them up. Since the power had gone out the apartment had grown noticeably cooler. With the blankets over them and Bane pressed against John’s back, John’s shivering eased and he yawned again. Before long, John was asleep in Bane’s arms.

Sleep never came easily to Bane, but with his body sated and his heart warm, Bane quickly drifted off into his own dreamless sleep.

#

John was still asleep when Bane woke up the next morning. The sun was up and Bane could see that the clock on the bedside table was flashing _12:00_ ; the power must have come back on sometime while they slept. Bane returned to spooning John from behind, happy to feel John’s calm, even breathing against his chest. Bane couldn’t linger all day but he planned to keep his promise, remaining close until John stirred and woke with a full-body strength in Bane’s embrace.

After that John rolled onto his back and met Bane’s gaze. “You stayed.”

“I said I would,” Bane reminded him.

“I know,” John smiled shyly, resting a hand against Bane’s bare chest. “I wasn’t sure if you would be a morning-after sort of man.”

Bane rested his hand atop John’s, soaking in his touch. “If I had a choice I would not leave.”

John’s smile turned sad and then faded entirely. “You said we had less than a month. Will you come back?”

“It would be easier if I did not come back,” Bane pointed out.

John rolled his eyes. “Since when has this been about what’s easy?” Bane had no argument in response. John touched his own belly and grimaced when he felt the dried remains of his orgasm. “I need a shower. Are you going to join me?”

There was very little Bane wanted more than to join John in the shower. His mask would cause problems though, and Bane knew the longer he delayed leaving, the harder it would be. “I should really go.”

John sighed and sat up, finally leaving Bane’s embrace. Bane slowly sat up as well, his eyes studying John’s bare skin that he could see in the daylight. “You’re only allowed to leave once you promise you’ll come back. I know we got distracted last night but I meant what I said before. We need to come up with a new plan where you don’t have to die.”

Bane could have lied, saying he would come back without intending to do so. He wouldn’t though – couldn’t. Knowing that John not only enjoyed their encounters but Bane’s company as well, and wanted to find a way for Bane to survive the end of this war, felt too wonderful for Bane to sour with a lie. “I will come back as often as it is safe,” Bane said at last.

John stared at him closely, searching for a lie until he was satisfied Bane was speaking the truth. “Alright,” John finally relented. “I’ll wait for you.”

If Bane had any hesitance about returning before, he had no hope of resisting after hearing that statement. He pulled John into his arms, holding him as tightly as he dared. John wrapped his arms around Bane’s neck and hugged him back, burying his face against Bane’s chest.

Bane didn’t know how long they stayed like that, breathing in tandem, but the day was progressing and eventually they had to pull apart. Bane dressed in his clothes, armour, and boots slowly, watching while John pulled on his underwear and a loose shirt from his hamper. Bane had enjoyed the opportunity to visually study John when he was naked but he looked equally appealing as he was now, comfortable and casual in Bane’s presence.

“Stay off your ankle,” Bane ordered, watching worriedly as John moved around the bedroom while putting as little weight on his injured ankle as possible. Bane wanted to take care of John but he knew John was his own person, not a toy to be carried around and coddled.

“As much as I can,” John agreed. “Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind about letting you go.”

John said it like a joke but Bane recognized the fear in John’s eyes. Now that they knew this meant something to both of them, there was a lot more to lose. Bane left the bedroom and headed for the door, though this time he let himself glance back over his shoulder. He was happy to see John there looking back, both of them acknowledging the mutual draw between them before forcing themselves to part, if only temporarily.

#

Time passed quickly. Talia’s plans were in a lull but Bane’s plans were ramping up. Bane continued to make public appearances around the city, observing the court sessions and overseeing the groups of guards at each blocked section of tunnel trapping collections of police officers. He didn’t see Talia; she trusted him to be following her plan so there was no need to meet. Part of Bane felt guilty for turning on her after so many years of loyalty but she had made her decision regarding his worth a long time ago and Bane had made his own decision about what was worth protecting.

Under the cover of night, Bane visited Bruce and Barsad at the small apartment where Bruce had been recovering. Bruce could stand and walk fluidly now, stretching and twisting his body through various exercises without a hint of pain. Bane was glad to see that the amount of damage he had caused was surmountable. However, watching Bruce regain his full strength and stamina filled Bane with a heavy sense of dread. His time with John was running out.

Bane frequented John’s apartment as often as he dared. Bane told himself he would only visit once a week but he was too smitten with John to willingly stay away. He warmed John’s bed a few nights a week, coupling some nights and simply talking on other nights. Sometimes they talked about their past, other times about a potential future, and most nights they ended in a circular conversation about how to end this war with Bane as a symbol of defeat without actually dying for the cause.

John suggested leaving Gotham but Bane could tell John was hesitant about the idea of leaving behind the city he loved and wanted to protect. Bane was also certain that the people of Gotham would not be satisfied that he was dead unless they saw his physical body as proof that their tormentor was visually vanquished, thus making the idea of leaving pointless. John refused to give up and finally, one cold night while they were on John's couch, inspiration struck him.

Bane grunted in surprise and lifted his hands out of the way when John suddenly shuffled over and straddled his thighs. Bane rested his hands on John's hips but frowned in confusion when John pushed him back against the couch, making it clear that despite the positioning, John had something on his mind other than sex. This was solidified by John's serious expression as he stared intently at Bane's face. Bane's curiosity and concern tempted him to ask questions but he remained silent, not interrupting John's deep focus.

"Bane," John spoke slowly.

"John," he replied when John didn't continue.

"I think I figured out how to save you." As John said this, he lifted both hands to frame the sides of Bane's face, palms resting against Bane's cheeks and the thick side bands of Bane's mask. Bane remained silent, waiting, withstanding the distraction of John's warm touch on his skin. "You are planning to die for me."

"Yes," Bane confirmed.

John shook his head and clenched his eyes closed, seemingly pained by Bane's affirmation. "Why?"

Bane hesitated, wondering how much to say. They didn't have much time left together but whatever this was still felt too new and fragile for the heavy word Bruce had spoken on the plane. Did Bane even know what love was? Was this love, or possibly love's fledgling beginnings? "Because I want you safe and happy," Bane said after a moment's deliberation, stating what he knew without a doubt in his heart.

"I can't believe I'm asking this..." John whispered to himself. John winced, eyes still closed as he rushed through his next question. "Would you suffer for me?"

"Yes," Bane said again.

John punched his shoulder hard but kept his other hand on Bane's cheek. "Then take off your mask for me." Bane stilled. John’s eyes flashed open, angry now. “You would literally die for me but you don’t want to take off your mask. Is the pain that bad?”

“Without the mask administering morphine the pain would become quite debilitating, yes. Especially while I adjusted to a lack of morphine,” Bane explained.

“There are other ways to get pain medication,” John pointed out. “I really think this could work if you were willing to try. Everyone recognizes your mask and they know you never take it off. If Batman says he killed you in a way that would mangle or destroy your body, we could scuff up the mask and put some blood on it to make it believable. He could use it as proof of your death.”

“I already made a deal with the Batman to kill me when necessary to save you and Gotham,” Bane said, reading the growing frustration on John’s face with each word. “I do not think he will be interested in renegotiating our terms.”

“He will. I know him,” John stated firmly. John skimmed his fingers over the skin where Bane’s cheek met the cold unyielding mask. “You’ve done so much trying to save me. Let me do what I can to save you. After all this is over I can help you overcome the pain.”

“What if you don’t like what you see?” Bane asked cautiously.

John rolled his eyes. “We’ve been through this much together and you won’t even give me a chance to prove your worries wrong? Please,” John’s tone turned soft as he gently tugged at the mask. “Take it off.”

After another moment’s hesitation, Bane reached behind his head to undo the clasps of the mask. Despite himself, he hoped that John would prove his fears wrong. And if he didn’t, if John found him as hideous as Bane knew himself to be, at least it would be easier to leave and accept that he would never hold or be with John again. The clasps loosened and Bane tentatively removed his mask to set it beside them on the couch cushion.

John was still in his lap, sitting comfortably on Bane’s thighs and watching closely as Bane’s face was revealed for the first time. Bane watched the various expressions flit across John’s face as he slowly took in every detail. There was surprise and horror, as Bane had initially expected, but it was quickly replaced by a sad curiosity. Bane allowed it when John explored his scars with fleeting fingertips, tracing Bane’s jaw line and disfigured lower lip where the stitches had been made wrong.

To Bane’s shock, John began to cry. Not with fear or with disgust, the way others had at the sight of him, but with lamenting anguish. “Who…” John struggled to speak through his tears. “Who made you the mask?”

Concerned about John’s reaction but encouraged that John wasn’t screaming or pushing him away, Bane wrapped his arms loosely around John’s waist. “Talia and her father.”

John wiped away his tears haphazardly with the back of one hand, trying to regain his composure even as he blinked and more tears cascaded down his cheeks. “I’m sorry you were ever made to feel that you could not be loved as you are,” John said brokenly. “I’m sorry you were taught that _this_ made you a monster, rather than the mask.”

Both of John’s hands were cradling Bane’s jaw, seemingly unbothered by the rough texture of scar tissue. John leaned in, paused to let Bane push him away if he wasn’t ready, and then closed the remaining distance between them. The first brush of John’s lips against his own was a revelation, a shockwave of emotion crashing through him to shred every belief Bane formerly held about being unlovable. John tasted of salt from his tears and Bane held John closer in his arms, returning and deepening the kiss.

It had been years since Bane’s lips had felt anything other than the metal of his mask and he had never been kissed. Bane’s lips were tingling with sensitivity as he followed John’s lead, the smaller man pressing gentle, lingering kisses to his lips and the corners of his mouth. Bane revelled in it, in the genuine affection and care he could feel in each touch of John’s lips against his own. Bane no longer had any doubts; this was love, and somehow he had been lucky enough to find it.

They were both out of breath when John sat back slightly, putting some space between them. Bane could easily see how kissing would enhance what they had started sharing in the bedroom. He wanted to explore that more, but for now this was about more than simply physical pleasure. This had been a declaration, however wordless. One they had both confessed and accepted together.

“Let me save you,” John requested again.

“You already have,” Bane responded before reeling John back into another warm, willing kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay. I started a new job recently and my anxiety has been through the roof so on Friday night my mind totally blanked. I hope you enjoy the second last chapter though :)

At John’s request, Bane took him to meet with Bruce and after some convincing on John’s part, they had devised a new plan. After some resistance, Bruce had relented to John’s insistence that they spare Bane and use the mask as proof, but only if Bane also provided additional proof of Talia’s deception. Luckily Bane had learned at a young age to always be prepared and he had the evidence Bruce was looking for in the form of audio recordings and forged identification documents.

It had been Bane’s plan all along to be Talia’s end, believing that it was his responsibility after enabling her revenge and letting it hurt so many people in the process. Bruce vetoed him, stating that if he couldn’t deliver Bane’s body, he would need to deliver hers. The thought made Bane uncomfortable but he knew the most important thing now was to survive. During the time when Bruce was recovering and Barsad was watching over him they had built a rapport so Bruce was willing to spare Barsad as well.

The first part of the plan had gone off without a hitch. With Bane’s intel, Bruce returned to Gotham as a triumphant Batman and hijacked the armoured truck transporting the ticking time bomb. Bruce navigated the truck through the streets towards one of the more public underground tunnel entrances, backup provided by Bruce’s friend Selina, dressed as Catwoman. Her willingness towards using gunfire kept most attackers at bay as they made their way through the narrow Gotham streets.

With Bane’s mask resituated on his face, he staged a confrontation with Batman to interrupt his heroic return just outside the tunnels. He drove one of the tank-like vehicles they had pilfered from Bruce’s armoury and stopped it in front of the tunnel entrance, effectively stalling Bruce’s progress in the truck with the bomb. Bane and Batman clashed in the intersection, trading blows as if their lives depended on it. Bane was silently relieved that Bruce had kept his promise to tell Selina enough of the plan that she focused on the approaching army around them rather than shooting Bane off his feet.

Bruce’s punches hit hard, aiming for the gaps in Bane’s armour. Bane hit back nearly as hard and let his body collapse when Bruce’s elbow jabbed his temple. He was still conscious but feigned disorientation as Bruce dragged him into the truck’s cab and drove them both down into the tunnels – the last time any citizen of Gotham would ever see Bane alive and with his mask.

Bane knew by now that Talia would have heard about the attack and tried to use the remote detonator. Thankfully she had trusted Bane enough to leave the oversight of the bomb’s maintenance to him. During his last check to ensure the bomb was not degrading faster than expected, Bane had slipped a tiny device on the underside of the bomb, blocking any signal that would cause it to detonate remotely. Bane was pleased by his forethought but couldn’t smile, not when he knew death was now chasing his former ward’s heels.

As Bruce, Bane, and Selina made their way through the tunnels, now out of sight from any prying eyes, John had contacted Gordon. They had rallied the cops that had hidden away for over a month, waiting for their chance to fight back. Their plan was to overtake the guards at each blocked tunnel entrance while there was confusion and chaos over the radios. Bruce had equipped John with grenades to be passed along to each group to help clear the rubble and free Gotham’s imprisoned police force. Once they were released, they would be able to help Batman and Catwoman round up anyone who was left of Talia and Bane’s army after they were gone.

Bane gave Bruce directions to the section of tunnel they had previously detonated to gain access to the chamber under the river where the core’s reactor remained. When they arrived, Bane saw that Barsad had already done his part. Talia was slumped against the wall near the reactor’s control panel, wrists bound behind her back but over the woollen cuffs of her coat to avoid bruising. Barsad stood over her, gun at the ready even though the bindings looked secure. Talia’s expression was stony, her eyes filled with fire when she first caught sight of Bane exiting the truck behind Bruce.

“Batman, save me!” Talia called out, voice breathy and distressed.

“Enough,” Bane told her as they approached. “He knows.”

Her demeanour shifted, taking off the damsel mask as quickly as she had donned it. “Traitor,” she accused darkly.

Talia looked like a goddess scorned and yet Bane realized how small and powerless she truly was. Talia had a sharp intelligence and enviable patience, but so much of what she had accomplished over the years was thanks to Bane’s efforts. Talia had been powerful only through Bane’s eagerness to please, to earn one scrap of approval. She was the mastermind and he had been her willing puppet, raining pain and havoc down on an entire city only because Talia sought the pain of one citizen.

“Yes,” Bane acknowledged. “And I do not regret my choice.”

She snarled up at him. “You’re _weak_. Just kill me now so I don’t need to suffer another moment of your presence.”

“Don’t!” Bruce spoke quickly. “Her wounds need to be consistent with our narrative. Help us with this.”

After checking to confirm that Talia’s bindings were secure but not marking her skin, Bane and Barsad both walked over to the back of the truck. The framing around the bomb made it nearly impossible to lift but when detached, the core itself was a more manageable weight. The four of them – Bruce, Selina, Bane and Barsad – gingerly lowered the bomb from the truck and carried it over to the reactor. Bane could feel his body straining under the weight, reminding him that he had taken some serious damage while fighting Bruce outside on the streets. It felt like something in his knee was torn but Bane pushed through the pain and finally the core clicked back into place, the timer going dim as the core stabilized.

They all breathed a sigh of relief, though it was short lived. It was only a matter of time until Talia’s forces figured out where they were and converged on them. “It’s time,” Bruce said as he turned to Bane. “You need to go.” Bane glanced back at Talia across the room. She hadn’t taken her eyes off him, livid in her fuming. Bane refocused when Bruce rested a hand on his shoulder. “You have someone else to live for now.”

Bane nodded and unclasped the mask. The jab to his temple had already opened a wound in his skin, his blood sticky and warm on one side of the mask. Bane dropped the mask to the ground and dragged it between his boot and the concrete until it looked properly scuffed. Then he handed it to Bruce without another word, silently grateful but knowing now wasn’t the time for words.

Bane and Barsad both made their way out of the reactor room back into the tunnels. Bane didn’t let himself pause or look back at Talia one final time. He already knew what he would see; disgust at his actions and his face. Bruce was right; Bane had someone else to live for now – someone who saw him and didn’t turn away.

Having already planned to split up in case of pursuit, Bane and Barsad shared a nod and then diverged down different tunnels. Bane had memorized the directions Bruce had given him, this route taking him through over two hours of winding tunnels. Finally he emerged at a nondescript grate, rusty and old from disuse. Bane broke through the old metal, oriented himself by the light of the sun, and then kept running.

Bane limped through the forest as fast as he could move, ducking into the trees’ undergrowth anytime he heard a hint of noise. There were no engines though, nothing pursuing him through the thick knots of weeds. Only the rustling of wind among tree branches and scattered birdcall. He was jumpy though, hoping that his trust in Bruce Wayne was not in vain. After everything they had done together today Bane knew he was likely worrying for nothing. However, Bane wouldn’t feel truly calm until he and John were safe and together again.

It felt like another hour had passed as Bane made his way through the unkempt forest. His knee was throbbing now, protesting each shift in weight. Bane forced himself forward and was rewarded by the distant sound of a waterfall; his final destination. There was climbing equipment hidden under a thick bush of brambles, as promised, and Bane made quick work of pulling on the harness and clipping himself to a rope hidden discreetly in the trees. Despite the pain spearing through his leg, Bane took a running leap and swung through the cascading water into the cave beyond.

He collapsed with a grunt where he landed, instantly soaked from the water. It took Bane a few minutes to work up the motivation to stand and walk further into the cave where he saw a raised platform. This was Bruce’s private cave, somewhere he could send Bane to hide safely until the war was over. As Bane limped away from the mouth of the cave and up onto the platform, he saw that Barsad was already sitting there waiting for him.

“Seems like I was given the easy route here,” Barsad teased with a laugh. “Or you’re just slow.”

Bane sat down heavily on the bench beside Barsad. “Apparently.”

He was aware of Barsad’s gaze lingering on his exposed face. Bane sat tensely, saying nothing, waiting for a final verdict. He was relieved when Barsad gave a tiny shrug – a non-verbal reassurance – and looked away. “Can’t say I was expecting to end up seated in Batman’s lair at the end of all this.”

“Nor I,” Bane agreed. They sat in silence for a long time until Bane spoke again. “I am sure she is dead now.”

Barsad glanced over at him again. “Yes, I expect so. It’s been hours,” Barsad reminded him. “I’m sure the reactor room and the core have been flooded. Bruce is probably showing the Commissioner her body and your mask now, explaining how you died but your body was swept away in the currents. It will take longer for them to sift through the other evidence you provided.” Bane nodded, knowing all this yet struggling to let the truth sink in. He didn’t harbour any regrets about the choices he had made, but it was still difficult to wrap his head around the results. Bane had protected Talia since she was small and now she was dead, not by his hands but by his actions. “I think you made the right decision.”

“I agree,” Bane sighed. “Though I will feel better when John is here.”

That thought pushed Bane to his feet, pacing back and forth as the time slipped away. Barsad napped against the wall for a while after failing twice to convince Bane to sit down. Bane sat back down only when his knee physically gave out from pain, forcing him to sit and fidget on the bench. Fears began to invade his thoughts as he imagined John shot or strangled by some nameless guard, bleeding out on the sidewalk with no one there to save him.

“Eat,” Barsad’s voice snapped Bane out of his thoughts. At some point he must’ve woken up and grabbed some protein bars from a nearby crate. Bane accepted the food and made himself eat two of the bars despite how bizarre it felt to eat in front of another person for the first time in years. Bane had always made an effort to visit John’s apartment after he had eaten, and even in the sewers Bane had left the company of Barsad and the others for his meals.

Barsad tried to start another discussion when they were done eating but Bane was a poor conversation partner, distracted and anxious as he was. Barsad gave up and started walking around the cave, exploring to pass the time. Bane remained where he was on the bench, his knee aching and his heart heavy. John had surprised him with so much happiness over the last few months. Bane didn’t know if he could continue on in a world without John in it.

More hours passed. It was impossible to tell the time with the artificial lighting overhead although Bane surmised it was late evening as the light from the cave mouth faded away. Bane was on the verge of passing out where he sat when he jolted awake at the sound of a metal elevator lowering nearby. He rushed to his feet and limped over to where Barsad stood a short distance away, in an open section of platform with a direct view of the metal elevator cage.

And finally, after what felt like a lifetime of waiting, John was there. Their eyes met across the room. Without conscious thought, Bane was limping as quickly as his knee could carry his weight. John limped too, his ankle still not fully recovered and likely aggravated from the day. However, neither of them would be slowed down as they met in the middle of the room, embracing one another desperately. Bane didn’t care that Barsad was standing nearby or that Bruce was in the elevator John had vacated. All that mattered was the shape of John’s body in his arms, alive and well, and the fact that John was hugging him back just as tightly.

“Get a room,” Barsad groused teasingly.

Bane growled in warning but relented when John leaned back slightly. “I really would like to sit down,” John admitted. John reached up to hold Bane’s bare face between his hands, pulling him down into a chaste kiss. “We can continue this later.”

Having no reason to argue with that, Bane let John step out of his embrace. To his surprise, John took Bane’s hand and led him back towards the elevator where Bruce was waiting, Barsad following behind them. The elevator climbed a few stories and deposited them in a dimly lit tunnel. Bane let go of John’s hand to instead rest some of his weight on the wall as they walked, trying to ease the strain on his knee. He was sweating now between the searing throb in his knee and the pinpricks of pain just starting to make his jaw ache now that he had gone a few hours without his mask or the morphine. Bane knew it would get worse before it got better and trudged on.

The tunnel morphed into a structured hallway. Bane wasn’t sure how long they had been walking but at one point in a small room Bruce pulled a lever and a section of bookshelf swung inward. If Bane hadn’t been so sore and tired he would’ve made a comment about vigilantes and secret lairs. Instead he kept his mouth shut and continued to follow the others into what had to be Wayne Manor. Most of the furniture was covered in sheets to protect everything from dust and the rooms were quite chilly.

“It’ll take some time to get the power back on after… everything,” Bruce explained as he took them up a flight of stairs and down a long hall. “But there is plenty of wood and fireplaces throughout the building, and a bunch of non-perishable food in the kitchen. You’re welcome to the rooms and the food. John and I picked out some rooms for you to stay in for now until things get more settled.”

Sure enough, Bruce opened one room and offered it to Barsad, and then took Bane and John around a corner to another room. Inside there was a large bed with a couch by an empty fireplace, towering windows overlooking the grounds, and an ensuite bathroom. It looked more like a lavish hotel suite than one room of many in a house – even if it was a mansion. On the bathroom countertop was a full medical supply kit and a bottle of painkillers. They weren’t nearly as strong as what Bane was accustomed to using but they would help.

“I’m sure we will have more to talk about getting things organized but rest for now,” Bruce said from the room’s doorframe. “I have to contact a few people and then I’m passing out upstairs.”

Bane looked from Bruce to John and down at himself. They were all worse for wear, bruised, bloody and aching. It was bizarre being in his former enemy’s manor house but they had long since agreed to a truce. He was grateful that Bruce was allowing them, and Barsad, to stay here away from the public eye while things settled down. Barsad would need to move on eventually – too many people had seen his uncovered face. But this would give him time to rest and plan where he wanted to go next, and how. As for Bane and John, they had serious injuries that needed time to heal, and they needed to decide what would come next in their new, shared future together.

“Thanks again Bruce,” John said for the both of them. Bane nodded his agreement. Bruce nodded back and left, closing the door behind him. “I think he said there would be some spare clothes in the closet…” John spoke to himself as he limped over to the closet next to the bathroom.

“Stop walking on your ankle,” Bane grumbled.

John flashed him a look over one shoulder. “You’re one to talk. Meet me in the bathroom before you collapse.”

Bane would’ve argued except he had no defence, his knee buckling where he stood. Bane entered the bathroom and sat on the lip of the massive Jacuzzi-sized bathtub, kicking off his boots and letting his armour fall away. John joined him a minute later with an armful of clothes, which he hung on the hooks behind the closed bathroom door. When Bane saw that John was stripping off all his clothes, Bane turned on the tub’s faucet and then followed suit.

John stepped up beside the tub to hold his hand under the tap, turning some knobs to adjust the temperature of the water. Bane couldn’t resist the close proximity and skimmed his hands up John’s thighs, over his hips, and back down to squeeze his ass. John groaned appreciatively at the touching before brushing away his hands. “We’re both too injured for that right now. Plus I’m covered in so many types of grime I’m turned off by myself.”

They both chuckled and Bane respected John’s wishes, mostly keeping his hands to himself. When John was satisfied with the water level he turned off the faucet and stepped carefully into the tub, hissing at the heat enveloping his lower half. Bane pivoted where he sat and slid in behind John, sighing with relief when the water instantly soothed the worst of his aches. The tub was wide but it was still a tight fit for the two of them. Bane used it as an excuse to ‘accidentally’ touch John as they passed a bar of soap back and forth to wash away the dirt and blood from the day of fighting.

Once they were both clean they got out of the tub and drained the water. There were fluffy towels on a wall rack that they both used before pulling on the clothes John had grabbed for them. The socks, sweatpants, shirt and hoodie all fit John well. A larger pair of sweatpants were comfortable for Bane but they couldn’t find a pair of socks that fit. The shirts were also quite tight around Bane’s chest and biceps so he decided to wear only a loose sweater John was able to find when he went back to search for more options.

After that Bane hooked his hands under John’s ass and lifted him onto the bathroom countertop. He took his time cleaning and bandaging the various scrapes and cuts littering John’s body that he had taken inventory of while they were in the bath water. Bane was relieved that John hadn’t suffered any life-threatening injuries. John’s ankle – definitely reinjured and swollen anew – was the worst of it. Bane unfurled a compression wrap from the medical kit and securely bound John’s ankle, limiting the risk of further injury when the ankle was most unstable. 

Positioned as they were with Bane standing between John’s legs, Bane also took the opportunity to press a few light kisses along the column of John’s neck, making it clear that he hadn’t forgotten John’s promise for them to continue things later. Despite the teasing, Bane allowed John to clean and bandage Bane’s wounds in return once John had been taken care of. Most of Bane’s injuries were superficial but John had to use sterilized tape strips to hold closed the split skin on Bane’s temple. Bane’s knee was another problem entirely, swollen and tender to touch. John bound it with another compression wrap to give it some stability but Bane knew immediately that the recovery would be slow.

When they were both patched up they stepped back into the bedroom. With Bane unable to kneel, John volunteered to start the fire in the fireplace. Bane sat on the couch to watch John use logs and kindling from a nearby metal container to fill the fireplace and then a matchbook that was on the mantel. John joined him on the couch after the kindling caught fire, keeping a close eye on things until the logs started to burn steadily. Ten minutes later the fire was burning strongly enough to warm the entire room and Bane and John mutually agreed to move to the bed.

Beneath the covers Bane pulled John back into his embrace, kissing up his neck and then slotting their lips together. John moaned and kissed him back, moulding the length of his body against Bane. They kissed deeply, desperately, but John stopped Bane’s hand when it started to drift downward. “We both need rest,” John reminded him gently, lifting Bane’s captured hand to kiss his wrist. “Besides, there’s no lube in here. I’ll get some tomorrow when I have to go into the city with Bruce.”

“We don’t need lube,” Bane argued, though he didn’t pull his hand from John’s grasp.

“We do for what I want you to do to me,” John smirked at him, knowing he was winning the argument but simultaneously riling Bane up more. Bane pursed his lips but didn’t dispute the issue further. The movement caught John’s attention and he brushed his fingers along Bane’s lips, eyes fixated on Bane’s uncovered face. “How’s the pain?”

“Bearable,” Bane said. “But it will get worse.”

“I’ll be here. We’ll get through it,” John promised. Bane pursed his lips again to kiss John’s curious fingertips. Their eyes met. “Thank you for choosing me, Bane. I…” John took a deep breath. “I love you too.”

Bane's heart skipped a beat in his chest and began to race. "I never said anything about love."

John smiled warmly as his hand cupped Bane's cheek. "You didn't need to. You _don't_ need to. I just wanted you to hear it."

Approximately two months ago Bruce had asked him if John loved him and Bane had been certain when he answered no. Yet here they were, bundled together in a warm duvet by a fireplace, bandaged and bruised, and John was confessing his love. There was no irony in John's expression, no mirth or calculation. John wasn't even demanding that Bane voice it back; he simply wanted Bane to know that he was finally loved exactly as he was. Nothing more, nothing less.

Bane knew, logically, that they had known each other for less than four months and their introduction had been a rather shaky one. He knew as well that there were a mountain of things for them to figure out and overcome together; physical recovery first, their bodies and Bane adjusting to a lack of morphine, and then deciding what their future would look like. It would take time for Bane to exercise less and change his physique as well as see if he was still capable of growing enough hair to change his appearance. Plus it was generous for Bruce to offer his house to them but they would need a place of their own eventually.

The list was practically endless but with John's declaration still ringing in his ears, none of it scared him. They would figure it out together, or at least they would try. Bane gently nudged John onto his back and pinned him to the mattress, relishing the way their bodies pressed together. He didn't just want this to be sexual though because John had proven to be far more than a lover. John was a companion, a confidante, a partner. With each of these thoughts Bane kissed him, feather-light and affectionate.

"I love you," Bane told John, his voice unwavering and strong.

John's smile widened and he pulled Bane into a deeper, claiming kiss.


	8. Epilogue

Bane set down the last box and sat on the couch with a sigh. John stacked his final box on top of Bane's and then walked over to stand between Bane's legs. Bane held out his hands, already reading John's intent in his gaze, and helped John lower himself onto Bane's lap. "So, here we are," John proclaimed. "Our new home."

"Our new home," Bane agreed, rubbing his palms heavily up and down John's thighs.

It had been two months since Gotham's occupation had ended, and half a year since Bane and John had first met. So much had changed in that time. John's body, less damaged from the fighting, had healed first and he had returned back to work as a full-time detective for Gordon. Bane had taken longer to recover, his superficial wounds healing but the ache in his knee and jaw lingering. The withdrawal from morphine had been brutal, eased only by Bruce's supply of medication and John's almost unending patience.

As Bane's knee grew more stable he started to exercise again but less intensely. Between that change and his weeks without any physical activity, the bulkiness of his muscles had faded. Bane was still tall and wide in stature but his musculature looked healthier now. The hair Bane grew on his head came in patchy so he kept it buzzed short with John's assistance. There was nothing Bane could do about the scarring on his lower face but Bane was comforted by the fact that John never looked at him with anything other than warmth.

Bane was still very much himself, but it had been agreed that he looked different enough now with his physical changes and sans mask that he could pass for an ordinary citizen of Gotham. Barsad had wished them well and, with Bruce's aid, left Gotham to start a new life where he wouldn't be recognized. Bane was disappointed to see his brother in arms go after everything they had done together but he wished Barsad a calmer, happier life.

A few weeks later, John had selected a small apartment in a nicer part of town he could afford with his new salary. Bane planned to contribute financially as soon as he was able to get a job now that they had left Bruce's estate manor and were back in the city. There was still extensive damage to the city from the occupation and Bane had maintained his strength so it was likely he would get some manual labour work clearing rubble without anyone asking too many questions. For now they had finished moving in the last of their boxes, filled primarily with John's clothes and belongings from his previous apartment as well as a few boxes of clothes, books, and medical supplies Bruce had donated to Bane. Now with their task complete, John seemed ready to celebrate.

John's legs framed Bane's thighs, knees hooked strategically against Bane's hips. Slowly, tantalizingly, John pulled a pocket-sized tube of lube from his coat's pocket. Bane chuckled. "How long have you had that in your pocket?"

"Since this morning," John smirked, setting down the container and shrugging off his coat.

"Minx," Bane accused. He slipped his hands beneath the hem of John's sweater, touching the bare skin of his stomach.

John rocked his hips forward once, firm and seeking. "You like it."

Bane's hands gripped John's hips and dragged him forward again, this time thrusting up to cause friction between them. "Of course I do," Bane said, and then pretended to deliberate. "It has been a long day. Are you sure you do not want to rest?"

John thrust against him again, inhaling sharply as they both started to swell. "Absolutely not. There’s no fun in moving if you don’t get to christen the furniture afterwards.”

Bane had no reason to delay things further. He let John rut against him while he tugged John's sweater over his head and threw it aside. Bane undid John's belt next, threading the leather from his belt loops after using it to pull John closer and deepen their next thrust against one another. “Get rid of these,” Bane tugged demonstratively at John’s waistband.

John had to stand up to get rid of his pants and underwear, removing all of his layers in a rush. Bane used the opportunity to undo the fly of his pants and slide them and his underwear down to his knees. John settled his weight back onto Bane’s thighs, their burning skin pressed together. Bane shrugged out of his coat and pulled off his shirt, distracted from his task as he watched John wrap a hand around their thickening lengths and stroke them in tandem.

When they were both as undressed as they were going to get, Bane took the lube container and popped the cap open. John didn’t need any instruction to rise onto his knees, making his ass accessible for Bane to massage his cheeks and tease down the cleft with two lubed fingers. John thrust rhythmically into the circle he had made with both of his hands, rutting their erections together. Bane nudged one finger inside John’s body and then a second one; they had sex frequently enough that John’s body didn’t require as much preparation as their first few couplings. While Bane’s fingers sank in, he watched John’s flushed face go slack as he moaned.

Bane continued to push his two fingers in and out of John’s hole and he added to John’s pleasure by mouthing at John’s clavicles and neck. He had to be careful about marking John’s upper neck since he was still working with the public but Bane greedily sucked marks at the base of John’s neck, bruising John’s warm skin with the shape of his mouth. John had grown his hair just long enough that Bane could twine the strands between his fingers and pull. He did this now, pulling John's head back to prompt his body and neck into a beautiful, uninterrupted arch. Bane smirked when John gasped and spilled precome, making his hands glide around their lengths.

Bane let go of John's hair and withdrew his fingers, coating three this time. He was eager but unwilling to hurt his partner. John’s body took the two fingers back in readily but there was some resistance against the third, as there always was. Bane massaged his lubed finger against John’s entrance, encouraging the muscles to relax and loosen until his third fingertip finally popped in. John tensed for a moment, breathing shallowly while his body adjusted, and Bane used his free hand to rub John’s back comfortingly.

Bane knew John was ready to continue when he gingerly sat down on Bane’s fingers, forcing them in to the second knuckle. John cursed on a shaky exhale and let go of their cocks, likely to avoid finishing too quickly. Bane didn’t mind when John’s sticky fingers wrapped around his neck, hugging their bodies in a tight embrace with their erections trapped between them. Neither of them could resist grinding against one another, seeking the heated friction that made them both groan.

They were both needy and desperate, panting the same air. Bane spread apart his three fingers inside John’s hole, loosening his body enough to accept the girth of Bane’s cock. For a few minutes they remained as they were, the room filled with the wet sounds of Bane’s fingers working themselves in and out of John’s body. Eventually John leaned back enough to put some space between their torsos, precome smeared over both of their bellies. “If you want me to come with you inside me you better hurry up,” John warned.

Not bothering to ask if John was sure, Bane removed his fingers and reached one final time for the lube. While Bane coated his length with lube he rested his head against the back of the couch. His eyes were closed in bliss between his hand working his cock and the sensation of John kissing his chest, neck, cheeks and finally his lips. Bane moaned and leaned into the kiss, never growing tired of how freely and willingly they could share this now that his mask was gone.

Bane fumbled blindly to situate John without breaking the kiss. He kept one hand on his cock to angle it upward and gripped John’s hip with his other hand. This was familiar to both of them now and John reached down to guide the head of Bane’s cock to his ass. Bane massaged John’s hole a few times, cock catching on John’s rim, and then pulled on John’s hip, dragging him down onto Bane’s length. As soon as the crown popped in John took over, spearing himself slowly until he was fully seated in Bane’s lap, ass cheeks hugging Bane’s balls.

John kissed Bane again, slower, hungry. Bane kissed him back, nudging apart John’s lips with his tongue to brush the roof of his mouth. Bane could only imagine how full John felt right now considering how tightly John’s walls were clenching around him. It took both of them a minute and a few steadying breaths to get their bodies under control, the crest of orgasm kept temporarily at bay.

When they were both ready, Bane cupped John’s ass with both of his hands, holding the swell of his cheeks where they met the tops of his thighs. Bane might have been exercising less rigorously than he had in the past but he still had the strength to lift John’s body weight without aid. During their exploration after the war ended, they had discovered that John was aroused by being manhandled in general, not just being held down. Bane used his strength to their mutual benefit, lifting and lowering John on his cock at a steady, claiming pace.

John rested his palms on Bane’s wide shoulders and resituated his knees wider on the couch for stability. After that his body went pliant, trusting Bane to use his body in a way that brought them both pleasure. Bane was pleased to satisfy John’s desires, turned on by the way John called out his name on deep thrusts and squirmed on his cock. They had come a long way since their first encounter and it was reassuring to know John not only trusted him, but that it could lead to such an intimate coupling.

At some point they needed to give up on kissing with the way John was bouncing on his cock. Their lips brushed occasionally but they mostly focused on the movement of their bodies, each downward thrust knocking the air from John’s lungs. Bane’s toes curled in his socks as he felt his balls start to tighten, sparks of pleasure making his gut clench with warning waves of arousal. He gripped John’s ass tighter, knowing that the next morning in the shower he would see five fingerprint shaped bruises spread across each cheek.

“Touch yourself so I can watch,” Bane ordered. He didn’t need the visual stimulation on top of the physical contact to build his orgasm but Bane was always greedy with John’s body. He enjoyed telling John what to do and watching John do it when it led to a more powerful orgasm for them both.

John took himself in hand and started to stroke roughly in time with each rise and fall on Bane’s cock. John whimpered and watched his hand work, precome spilling over his fingers and dribbling onto Bane’s belly. Bane kept bouncing John on his length but John started to take an active role as well, riding him by grinding down firmly each time Bane was fully sheathed inside him. Bane choked on an inhale, losing the battle to stave off his climax.

“I want your seed,” John said hoarsely, knowing the way those words riled up Bane.

“You first,” Bane grunted, cursing breathlessly when he felt John’s body spasm around him.

John’s mouth was a slack ‘o’ with his silent cry when he came. Bane watched John’s fist fly over his cock, rubbing and squeezing as he painted Bane’s skin with a few spurts of come. Each pulse of orgasm manifested as another spasm rocking John’s body, clenching his ass tightly around Bane’s moving cock. Bane had given up all sense of rhythm, fucking into John’s hole with hungry desperation.

Before John was even finished, Bane’s climax rushed through his veins. He moaned John’s name as his hearing turned to static, John’s body milking him of his seed. Bane continued to thrust up weakly, addicted to the wet sounds of John bouncing on his cock while full of come. Soon Bane stilled entirely, his throbbing cock plugging John’s hole and keeping his seed buried deep in John’s ass. John rocked down on him once more, just to hear the wet squelch, and then collapsed against Bane’s chest.

Bane wrapped his arms loosely around John’s waist and held him close, both of them focused on catching their breath as their heartbeats slowly calmed. Only when Bane’s cock softened and slipped out of John’s body did they finally move away, both of them covered in come and in need of a shower.

They made their way to the apartment’s bathroom and Bane fully removed his pants while John turned on the shower spray. Before John got into the shower, Bane grabbed his hip and bent John over the countertop. John grunted with confusion but went willingly, his legs spread wide for balance. Bane pried apart John’s cheeks and rubbed a finger along John’s gaping rim, observing the come still filling him.

“Bane,” John moaned when Bane slipped a finger into him, his cock twitching between his legs even though they were both spent. Bane wanted to shove his cock back into John’s willing body and fill him with more come but for now he was satisfied with pumping his longest finger in and out of John’s hole, curling it deep inside until John’s back arched. “ _Bane!_ ” John gasped as a tremor worked through his body, a glob of clear fluid dribbling from John’s tip onto the floor. Bane wrung one more cry from John’s lips before he was batted away, John breathing hard.

With Bane’s eagerness to explore John’s body, he had stumbled across an interesting fact. During one evening when Bane was experimenting, he had discovered that unlike most men, John was capable of a second orgasm. It didn’t happen often, John typically too sensitive to withstand additional stimulation, but Bane took advantage of this any chance he got. He relented though when John nudged him away, knowing by now that this meant John was too sensitive to continue.

John straightened and turned, pulling Bane into a deep, lingering kiss. Bane could feel John smiling into the kiss and Bane smiled back. Then he scooped John up into his arms and carried him into the shower’s cascade for both of them to rinse off. They washed each other lazily, sleepily, and didn't bother redressing after turning off the shower and towelling off. Instead they made their way together into their new bedroom, slipping under the duvet and into one another's arms.

"Home," John mumbled against Bane's shoulder, comfortable and already dozing.

"Home," Bane affirmed, kissing John's forehead and then closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you everyone who came on this journey with me. I was so nervous writing a pairing I hadn't written for years, and sharing the story when I didn't know if there would be an audience remaining. You have all been so excited and responsive and supportive and it's been an amazing experience <3 
> 
> I'm sad to see this end because I know with my new job I won't have the energy to write more for a while. But someday I do want to write more of these two and also finish some WIPs for Arthur/Eames. If you're interested, feel free to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to me here so you know when story updates are posted :) Thank you again!

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on: [Tumblr](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) and [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/onewhositswiththeturtles).


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